After Shock
by Bouncemess
Summary: Sequel to Four and a Half Brothers. Jack comes home from the hospital with Christmas just around the corner, unfortunately, Adam Macks is moving in to take over Victor Sweet’s territory, and he wants his son back now more than ever.
1. Chapter 1

I knew I forgot something...

I do not own Four Brothers, nor do I profit from this fiction!

* * *

**Chapter 1; Home **

Monday morning, December nineteenth, six days shy of Christmas, and Jack was coming home. Craig sat on the couch in front of the window, looking out at the street, waiting for Jeremiah's car to pull up out front. Jerry and Bobby had gone to the hospital to pick up Jack and they had left at nine. It was almost noon now.

Angel was sitting in the chair in front of the fire place, flipping through the channels of a used television he'd picked up at a pawn shop somewhere. Craig hadn't really missed having a television in the house, his brothers had been keeping him busy with the building they were doing. Craig honestly thought his brothers missed the remote control more than the actual television, they never left it on one station; they were constantly changing the channels.

Instead of a Christmas tree this year, Jerry had hauled over a borrowed hospital bed. The middle section of the dining room table had been removed to make it smaller, and the bed had been set up along the back wall. Jack wasn't going to be able to go up and down the stairs for a while, so the bed would be convenient for him. Craig knew he was old enough that not having a tree shouldn't be that big of a deal, but he was missing having one in the house. His mother had loved Christmas, and the tree had always been a big deal to her. She had decorations that she had saved for years, and there had been a special story behind each and every ornament that hung from the branches. She would tell him the stories every year as they decorated the tree.

Craig turned and looked at Angel. "What time is it?" He asked, wanting to get his mind off of Christmas memories.

Angel looked at the boy. "Five minutes later than the last time you asked." The man gave him a look. "Stop watching the window, and get your mind on something else. They will get here a hell of a lot quicker that way."

Craig turned on the couch to look back out the window. "No they won't." He muttered.

"What do you want me to do? I can't make them get here any faster." Angel returned to the task of changing the channels on the television with the remote.

Craig didn't respond to the man. He'd wanted to go with Bobby and Jerry to the hospital, but they both insisted it would be easier if he just stayed home. As stupid as it may have sounded, Craig hadn't been separated from Bobby since Thursday night, and the boy didn't feel comfortable with Bobby being gone. He was on restriction, and that meant that he had to be with one of his brothers at all times, but it usually meant that he was with Bobby.

"Craig." Angel spoke from the chair.

Craig turned and looked at the man, "Yeah?"

"Go look out back." Angel was looking towards the kitchen.

Craig hadn't thought about the driveway out back, though that was where his brothers had been parking most of the time lately. He stood and started to go to the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway and looked at Angel. He wasn't supposed to go from one room to another unless a brother was with him.

Angel grinned and stood, dropping the remote on the coffee table. "Come on." He took long strides, walking past Craig and towards the kitchen.

Craig followed, sure that they were going to look out the door and find Jerry's car parked in the drive, and see Bobby and Jerry helping Jack walk the distance from the car to the back door. He was greatly disappointed when he looked past Angel, out the door to see only Bobby's beat up car and Evelyn's car, which had been claimed by Angel.

It was obvious that Angel was just as disappointed. He looked at Craig, "Sorry kid, I was sure I heard them." He shook his head. "But since we're in here, grab me a beer." He sat down at the table and looked out the window, watching the drive.

Craig walked to the refrigerator and got out the bottle of beer Angel had asked for. He set it on the table and sat down across from his brother. "What's taking them so long?" He asked.

"Hell if I know." Angel shook his head. "Don't worry; they would call if there was a reason to worry." He opened the beer and took a long drink. "Well, Jerry would think to call anyway." He added after a moment.

Craig looked at the lines creased along Angel's forehead. "You're worried." He muttered.

"I am not worried, I'm just thinking."Angel made a purposeful attempt to clear his features of all signs of concern. "I'm thinking that we should probably try to call them." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

"If you aren't worried, then why are you calling them?" Craig asked.

"Cause we need more beer." Angel muttered as he punched in the number for Jerry's cell phone.

Craig watched as his brother held the phone to his ear and listened. After several moments of silence Angel finally spoke. "Yeah, Jerr', when you get this message give us a call at home. Ya' all have been gone for three fuckin' hours. It don't take no three hours to drive to the hospital, pick up Jackie and haul his sorry ass back home. You could at least call and let us know what the hell is goin' on. The kid is getting all hyper on me, so you had all best be getting home soon or callin' back or…" He stopped speaking and hesitated for a moment before he shut the phone. "Damn time on the voice mail ran out before I could tell them to pick up more beer." He muttered the words and looked at Craig. "Let's go back to the living room. At least in there I can watch some T.V." He stood slowly, looking past Craig out the window.

Craig sighed and stood, glancing out the window as well, and hoping that he would see Jerry's car pulling into the drive, but he didn't. "Can't you try to call again?"

"Craig, don't you like spending time with me?" Angel asked the question while crossing his arms at his chest.

"Well, yeah, but…" Craig started to speak, surprised by Angel's question. "I didn't mean…" He couldn't finish his sentence. He didn't want Angel to think he didn't like being with him, but he was anxious about Jack coming home, and he honestly had gotten used to Bobby being around all of the time.

Angel smiled. "Come on, let's go wait in the front room, you can draw a picture or something." He motioned for Craig to walk in front of him.

Twenty minutes later Craig was involved with a sketch of some trees and a meadow. He wasn't sure where he'd seen it, but all of his drawings were of things he'd seen somewhere. Sometimes he'd see something on television that he couldn't get out of his head and he'd draw it, or he'd see an advertisement in a magazine and put it to paper, making some subtle changes so that it looked more as he wanted it to. Bobby had been letting him draw more in the past few days, and he'd been able to get a lot of pictures out of his head.

Not many of his sketches had been of peaceful meadows lately, he'd drawn out most of the scenes stuck in his head from the past couple of weeks, and very few of them were pleasant. Though there had been a few times in recent days that he'd seen moments that were good , he had sketched out pictures of his nieces playing in the front yard while their father and Uncles worked on the house. He had a very good picture of Angel and Sofi that he was very proud of, though he didn't know if he wanted to show it to Angel or not. Angel hadn't known he was looking when Craig took the mental snapshot in his head.

There were some pages that he'd colored dark, and though there were forms on the page, there were no details. Blank faces, shaded over in the soft lead, with nothing but fog surrounding them, these were the fragments of memories left over from his time spent with Victor Sweet, in the dark, with no way of seeing what was going on around him, only the feel of the cold floors, the way he was touched, and grabbed, and dragged around like a piece of trash. He knew the moments that each dark rendering marked, but he could never explain them to anyone else. He shivered at the fear that seemed to linger around those pages, trying to reach out to him, to invade his mind and put him back into the panicked state he'd been in when he first went to Jerry's house from the hospital.

"Hell, ain't no one gonna even offer to help us get this shit in the house?" Bobby's voice filled the room with no warning.

Craig looked up to see Bobby standing in the dining room doorway holding a plant that had been given to Jack in the hospital, and a couple of bags holding Jack's personal items. Behind him Jerry was walking Jack over to the hospital bed that had been set up for him.

Craig had been waiting for this moment for so long that it took a moment for his mind to comprehend the meaning of Bobby's presence. All four of his brothers were finally at home with him. He smiled and stood, but not as quickly as Angel, who was already moving past Bobby to help Jerry get Jack settled in. He could hear Angel talking to Jack, asking if anyone had sent anything home for him.

"He was the one in the hospital ass hole!" Bobby called out to Angel, unloading the contents in his arms onto the dining room table before turning to look at Craig as the boy walked up to him. "You doin' okay?" He slid his arm across the boy's shoulders and gave him a slight squeeze. "You survived a few hours with this ass, didn't you?" He asked.

"I'm fine."Craig spoke quietly, still not quite sure how to handle the attention his brothers gave him. He liked it, but it was still new and felt awkward to him. Bobby told him he would adjust to his brothers being back home, but it was more than them being back home. He had never been close to them when he was little, and now they were in control of his life. It was confusing for him at times.

When he was younger he was afraid of letting anyone besides Evelyn Mercer get close enough for him to love them. He'd wanted his brothers to notice him, and like him, and be one of them, but they hadn't really wanted him around, or so it seemed. He understood it a little better now. He could look back now and see that they did love him back then, but he was too young to really be treated the same as one of them. They treated him like a seven year old because he was seven. The lives they led back then were the lives of teen agers, and they couldn't drag a seven year old around with them, it wouldn't have turned out very well for any of them. Besides, he would do something to try to get their attention, but when they started paying attention he didn't know how to deal with the kind of attention the Mercer brothers gave. He would end up feeling hurt he didn't understand the way they talked, and acted. They didn't know how to talk and act with a kid that young and he would get scared and back off.

He was understanding that better now, because he had gone right back to the same behavior when they all came home to bury their mother, but this time they hadn't let him run away from his feelings. They had all made him deal with them, and he was glad they had. But he still had the urge to try to put the distance between them. It was easier than trying to fit in with them.

Bobby was his legal guardian now, and the man was taking the job to heart, Craig had to admit that. He'd burned his ass a few times now, but he'd also made it clear to the boy that it didn't have to be that way, Craig only had to listen, and try, and everything would be good between them. They'd had some very long talks a couple of nights in a row, and Craig had admitted to Bobby that he was still scared, and that it was hard to open up and let his brothers help him. Bobby seemed to understand that. That was the reason he was on restriction. Bobby's logic was that if he kept Craig with one of his brothers all of the time that the boy would have no choice but to deal with them. They could help him deal with the fears that he had, and eventually Craig would trust them enough to talk to them about the shit still going around in his head from the past few weeks.

Craig watched as Jerry and Angel got Jack settled. Jerry asked the younger man if he needed anything. Was he hungry or thirsty? Did he have enough blankets and pillows? Did he want his guitar?

Craig laughed as he remembered his first night at Jerry's after he'd been released from the hospital. Jerry had done the same with him, hovering over him as if he would disappear off of the couch if the man turned away from him.

"Jesus Jerr', shut the fuck up. If I want anything I'll tell you." Jack laughed at the man.

Jerry looked at him for a long moment, surprised by the words. "Alright," He swung his arms up in an exasperated motion. "I was just tryin' to help is all, you're gonna have to depend of these sorry ass holes after I leave, you do realize that."

"We'll take care of him Jerr'." Bobby spoke seriously. "We'll tuck him in all nice and warm at nine o'clock, read him a bedtime story and slide a teddy bear under his arm as he drifts off to lull-lull-land."

"Alright, make jokes. Ya' all had better remember what the doctor said about that drainage tube, and don't forget to give him his medication. Every four hours, he gets the yellow pill, but he gets the big pink pill every six hours." Jerry looked at Bobby.

"Jerry, I can tell time, I know when I need to take the pills, okay?" Jack spoke up, waving at the man to get his attention. "I'm not five years old; I can take care of myself."

"You might be home little brother, but you still can't do shit. You can't even get out of that bed to go any further than the couch." Jerry pointed to the couch in the living room.

"Don't worry Jerry; we'll carry his fairy ass around the fucking house if we have to. We got it under control." Bobby pulled Craig towards the bed. "We're all home now, and we can handle this."

"Don't start that shit Bobby." Jack looked at Bobby.

"What shit?" Bobby smiled.

"The fairy shit." Jack pointed at Bobby. "I am not gay, and you can stop calling me fairy."

"Jack, I'm truly insulted." Bobby held his free hand up to his heart. "I call you fairy out of love. I want you to know that gay or not, you're my brother and I love you."

"Don't say it." Jack kept his eyes glued to Bobby. "I am not gay."

Bobby laughed. "Say what? That I love you even if you are gay? It's the truth Jack. I'm your big brother, and I accept you for who you are. If you aren't gay, then so be it. I still love you."

The room grew quiet. Bobby actually had let it go? It didn't seem possible. Craig was waiting for Bobby to say something else, and apparently so was everyone else.

"That's it? You aren't going to make some kind of fucking joke?" Jack looked as skeptical as Craig was feeling.

"Naw, I'll give you a few days before I start making your life hell. Wouldn't want Jerry here to have a heart attack 'cause I got you all stressed." Bobby looked at Jerry.

Jack looked at Craig. "So, little bro', how are you doing? These clowns have been takin' good care of you?" He asked.

Craig nodded his head. "Yeah," He answered. He couldn't believe he felt awkward at that moment. He'd seen Jack in the hospital several times and had felt more relaxed there than he did now. He'd wanted Jack to come home because he knew he would be able to talk to him about some things that he couldn't talk to Bobby, Angel or Jerry about.

Bobby's wise cracks about Jack being gay were one reason why he was afraid to talk to his oldest brother about the things that had happened to him. Bobby made fun of Jack, and he knew that Jack had been hurt the same way Craig had, when he was little, before he became one of Evelyn Mercer's sons. Craig didn't know how Jack could take that from Bobby, and he didn't understand how Bobby could torment Jack that way. Part of him was afraid Bobby would start calling him a fairy, and he knew he couldn't handle it if he did.

Craig didn't know exactly what had happened to Jack in the past. He had only figured out that they shared similar history because Jack had told him several times that they had a lot more in common than Craig knew. It had taken some time for the boy to piece it together, but he was sure that Jack knew firsthand what it was like to be violated in the same way he had been, and he needed to talk to someone about the way he'd been touched, and the fears he had of being touched again. Fears that seemed to creep up when he least expected them too, and were impossible to control.

Craig listened to his brothers talking to each other as if they were old friends, joking and laughing. He watched as Jerry got Jack a glass of water, even though the younger man had insisted he wasn't thirsty. He was drinking in the feel of his brothers all being home, and feeling more secure just being with them than he ever had. He let his mind forget the hell that the past few weeks had brought down on all of them, and he laughed with them and joined in some of the conversation, but he didn't talk too much, he didn't want to chance sounding stupid and having them make fun of him for some reason. He just wanted to feel like a part of the family that was left since his mother had been taken from them. He missed her, and the feeling of belonging with her. He needed to feel as if he belonged somewhere.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to all for reading! This one is going to start out pretty slow, but it will pick up, I promise :)

Legal stuff still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 2: New Challenges, Old Battles**

Sofi had been at her mother's all morning, but came home about one o'clock with a pot of vegetable soup that she had made while she was there. She put the pot on the stove and warmed it up. Jerry announced that he had to get home, but that he made a point to tell Jack that he would be back that evening to check on him. The two of them hugged before Jerry left. Jack wanted to eat at the table, so Angel helped him to his chair. It was a little crowded at the table, with Angel and Sofi sharing the side nearest to the kitchen door. Jack sat on the end closest to his bed. Craig was seated on Bobby's right, and Bobby was in his usual seat, near the living room doorway.

Craig didn't really have much of an appetite; he was too excited about Jack being home. He wanted the chance to sit with him and talk to him, but at the same time he didn't want to push himself on Jack so soon after coming home. He knew Jack was still healing and he wasn't going to feel like having a serious talk with his younger brother the very day he came home from the hospital. Craig knew he wasn't going to have a chance to talk to him for a few days, but he still felt anxious about it. He knew that with Bobby and Angel around it was going to be hard to get time alone with Jack. He found himself drifting off in his thoughts, and stirring his soup around in his bowl after he'd only had a couple of bites. He was brought out of his thoughts by Bobby's hand smacking the table next to him. He was startled and looked at Bobby who was returning his gaze, with his eyebrows raised as if he'd asked a question and was waiting for an answer.

"What?" Craig asked, though he knew what Bobby was going to say. He hadn't had any problems eating for a few days now, but his brother was still watching him like a hawk at every meal.

"You need some help with that?" Bobby pointed to the soup.

Craig shook his head. "Sorry, I was just thinking." He realized he was slumped down in his chair. He sat up and leaned forward towards his bowl. He took a bite and looked back at Bobby.

"Five minutes." Bobby didn't have to explain that was the time limit he was giving Craig before he started feeding him his self.

Craig ate the soup without any more prodding. It wasn't as if he was really having a problem eating, he was just thinking, something that his brothers still didn't seem to understand about him. He glanced up at Jack while he ate; not really paying any attention to the conversation going around the table, though there was a lot of talking. He realized Jack was being kind of quiet, not saying as much as their older brothers. Maybe he and Jack were more alike than he'd ever realized. Jack had always been quiet, and he used to lock himself up in his room to work on his music, just like Craig liked to get lost in his drawing. He wanted to ask Jack so many questions, but wasn't sure when he was going to have the time. He concentrated on getting his soup eaten, and figured he could wait for the right time.

"You're looking a little tired there little brother, you ready to get back into bed?" Bobby looked at Jack.

"I think maybe I should." Jack nodded his head.

Bobby stood and walked around the table. "Okay, let's get you all tucked in, like I promised Jerry." Bobby spoke with a laugh. "Where is that teddy bear?"

"Very funny Bobby," Jack muttered, but accepted the help from the oldest Mercer.

Once Jack was settled, Bobby turned and looked at Craig. "You can help me get the table cleared." He clapped his hands and motioned for Craig to stand. "Come on, get moving." He looked at Angel. "Didn't you have plans for this afternoon?" He asked.

"Yeah, we gotta go to Sofi's Uncle's." Angel stood and looked at Sofi. "What time do we need to be there?"

Sofi sighed. "By three o'clock. How many times do I have to tell you that?" She stood and grabbed hold of Angel's arm. "I have your clothes all picked out. Come on, I'll run your shower for you." She pulled him out of the room.

Craig stood and watched the two of them exit through the living room doorway. Before they reached the foyer he could hear Angel's words. "Woe baby, we ain't ever gonna make it to your Uncle's if you keep this up."

Craig laughed as Bobby walked to the doorway. "Hey, keep the X-rated shit out of ear shot of the kids!" He yelled.

"Leave 'em be Bobby, it's cool that Angel has someone." Jack spoke quietly while adjusting his position on the bed and closing his eyes.

Bobby looked at Craig. "Well get moving; these dishes ain't gonna wash themselves." He walked over to the table and started gathering up the bowls and glasses. "You've got a doctor's appointment in the morning, so you need to wash some decent clothes to wear. No sweatpants and flannel shirts. You need to get back into jeans through the day. On the way back from your appointment we'll stop at the school and pick up your school books so you can get your ass caught up. I talked to your councilor this morning and he's going to get with your teachers to get the work you need to be doing." He remarked. "Maybe Jackie can help you out with studying. It will give you both something to do for the next couple of weeks." He glanced over at the man in the bed.

"That's Jerry's job." Jack spoke without opening his eyes.

"Jerry has his own shit to do at home, he's been here most of the time over the weekend, and I'm surprised Camille recognized him once he did get home." Bobby commented and turned to walk to the kitchen. Craig followed with his own arms full of dishes.

Bobby set the dishes he'd carried on the counter. "You start; I'll get the table cleaned off." He grabbed a dish rag and headed back to the dining room.

Craig turned and watched as his brother left him alone in the kitchen. It was the first time he'd been alone in a room since Bobby had caught him out of his room on Thursday night. He started the dish water running and added the soap. He could hear Bobby talking to Jack, and figured the two of them probably needed to spend some time together. He almost felt jealous that Bobby had left him alone and was spending time with Jack, but he pushed that aside. It was a stupid reason to be jealous. Jack needed his brothers worse than Craig did at that moment. He had almost died trying to protect him, and he deserved the best from his family, especially Craig.

The boy started washing the dishes, letting his mind think about what Bobby had said just minutes before. He had a doctor's appointment the next day. At least he gave him some warning before just dragging him off to the doctor this time. The doctor would ask the same questions, he was sure, but this time he wouldn't have to lie to the man. Bobby knew he hadn't had any more bleeding, and his toe was healing up really good, except for the ghost pains that would hit him from time to time. The end of his toe would start to throb and he couldn't do anything about it because the end of his toe wasn't there anymore. He'd had a hard time walking without that little toe at first, but once his foot figured out how to use the muscles to grip at the floor without the little toe there to do its part, walking had become easier. He didn't even limp now. The stitches in his cheek had come out on their own, and that was still healing, but it didn't look like there was going to be much of a scar. The welts around his wrists, knees and ankles had all pretty much disappeared, and the bruises on his back and chest, and the needle marks that had marked him around his collar bone and thighs were so faint now you could only see them if you knew they had been there. His body was slowly erasing any signs of what had happened to him. He only wished his mind would let the memories fade as easily.

He'd talked to Bobby about most of it, but he wasn't even sure what he'd told his brother any more. His emotions would take over whenever they talked and what he told the man would spill out of him without him having to think about what he was saying. Bobby had started making him talk just before going to bed, thinking that talking about it helped him to sleep better. It didn't, but he didn't want to point that out, afraid of what Bobby would try to come up with as a solution. He'd already asked him about talking to a psychologist, but he didn't want to. He hadn't really had much luck with them in the past. None of them really talked to him, they just let him draw, and then they would try to ask about the pictures. He couldn't talk to them, just like he couldn't talk to the police.

In the past, Evelyn Mercer had always been the one who made things better. He hadn't had to talk to her for her to understand, but she wasn't there now. Bobby had taken control of everything he did, and he'd wanted that before, because he felt so out of control. Now he wasn't sure what he wanted. He wanted the memories to go away, but he had tried to hide from them once, and he hadn't been able to. He'd tried to bury them deep into the black fog in his mind, and put walls up to keep himself from hurting, but that had made it worse. He'd ended up losing all control and his brothers had found out he'd been lying to them, and hiding things from them, and that was an experience that he didn't want to repeat.

With Jack home now, he was realizing that Bobby wouldn't be able to give him all of his attention. He had known deep down that was going to happen, and he knew that Jack needed Bobby's time more than he did right then, but he was afraid of his brothers going back to ignoring him, and then not wanting him. Bobby had already told him that he didn't have to be afraid of that, but his words didn't ease the boy's insecurity. It was how his brothers acted that controlled his fears, not what they said. He almost wished he'd had a little more time at home with Bobby before Jack came home, but at the same time, he'd wanted Jack home so he could have a chance to talk to him himself. He needed to talk to someone who really understood what had happened to him. His mind seemed to be getting more confused by it all as he thought about it.

He hadn't thought about school until now. Bobby wanted to stop at the school and pick up his books. He had never been the best student. His mother said he was smart, but he had to work a little harder, and that was nothing to be ashamed of. He had always brought home decent grades, because Evelyn Mercer didn't allow for anything less than hard work when it came to school, but he had never brought home anything higher than a B in his regular classes. He hovered around a high C in just about every subject, managing a B from time to time. What was most important was that he passed every year, and Evelyn Mercer told him she was proud of him for working so hard, and he did have to work hard. He'd been glad to get to high school and be able to take art class since it wasn't offered in Jr. High. Art had been one subject he'd excelled in. He had brought home his first A the first quarterly report, and he'd been thrilled. His Mom had told him she wasn't the least bit surprised, that he was very talented. It had made him feel good, to hear her say that to him. He was dreading trying to study now, with his mind so full of other thoughts, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to try to get back into his school work, though he knew he was going to have to.

Bobby walked back into the kitchen, and laid the dishrag he'd taken with him down on the counter. He looked at the full dish drainer and sighed. "You wouldn't mind drying them would you? Jack kind of wants to talk." He leaned on the counter, keeping his voice quiet. "He's got a lot of shit on his mind."

"No problem." Craig shrugged his shoulders. "When I'm done can I go draw?" He asked.

"When you're done I want you to get a load of laundry in the washing machine. Then you can go draw." Bobby cocked his thumb at the laundry room. "I have your clothes in there already; all you have to do is fill up the washer and get it started. Don't be going any further than that couch, I can still keep an eye on you there, and you are still on restriction."

"Bobby, I don't know how to wash clothes." Craig spoke quietly, embarrassed to admit the fact to his brother.

"Ma never showed you how to wash clothes?" Bobby sounded surprised. "Hell, she had us doing the laundry as soon as we were tall enough to reach the top of the washer." He shook his head.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "Well, she tried to show me once, but I turned her bra blue." He made a face.

Bobby laughed, "You what?"

"I didn't know blue jeans couldn't go in with whites." Craig didn't like Bobby laughing at him. "It's not funny." He spoke defensively.

"Okay, you know that much now, right?" Bobby forced the laughed to stop. "Just keep all the white shit separate, put some soap in and start the washer." He patted Craig on the back and then went back into the dining room.

Craig dried the dishes and put them away. He went to the laundry room and looked at the basket of clothes Bobby had setting on top of the dryer. He wasn't thrilled with having to do laundry, but he figured he could manage. If Angel could wash clothes without screwing it up, surely he could do it.

He started putting the clothes in, putting only the whites and light colored clothes in. He read the box on the laundry soap and then poured some of it into the machine. He closed the door and looked at the knob, confused by all of the different settings that were marked on the dial, and unsure of how to get the machine to start. "Bobby?" He called out.

Bobby appeared in the doorway moments later, "What?" He asked; sounding a little irritated that he'd been interrupted in his talk with Jack.

"I don't know how to start it." Craig looked up at his brother.

Bobby walked over and took a hold of the boy's hand, placing it on the dial. "Turn this to this mark." He pointed to a mark next to the dial and waited while the boy turned the pointer on the dial towards the mark. "Now, push this button." He pointed to a button that was clearly labeled 'Start'.

Craig pushed the button.

"There you go; you have started your first load of laundry. Now you can go sit on the couch and draw until you hear the buzzer." Bobby stepped out of the laundry room and headed back to the dining room.

Craig went to the living room and sat on the couch with his sketch pad. He could see Bobby and Jack, and he could hear their quiet voices. They sounded serious, there was no laughing. Craig wondered what they were talking about, but he knew it was none of his business. He wished he could be in there with them, but apparently Jack needed to talk to Bobby.

Craig could understand how he felt. He had been feeling a need to try to talk to Jack. As he sat with his pencil and sketch pad he wondered if talking to Jack was a good idea. The man had been through just as much as he had, more really. He had been laying in a hospital for a couple of weeks, fighting for his life. Craig had only been in the hospital for a couple of days. He started sketching out the picture of Jack, laying in the hospital bed in the dining room, with Bobby sitting on the edge of the bed, the two of them looking at each other. He didn't have to keep looking at them to keep the picture in his mind. Just as always, it was like a photograph imprinted in his memory. He included the potted plant that was now in the center of the table, without even realizing it. As he transferred the picture imprinted on his brain onto the paper he made the decision to wait before trying to talk to Jack. He'd wait until the man was completely healed and that meant emotionally as well as physically. He knew what it was like to deal with the memories of that day, and he didn't want Jack to have to try to help him with his battle when he was still fighting one of his own.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for reading, and for the nice reviews! I love knowing what you think, so please tell me, and any advice is always welcome!

Legal statement still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 3: Adam Macks**

Once Craig had finished with a couple of loads of laundry he realized just how easy it really was to wash clothes, and wondered why his brothers made such a fuss about doing laundry all of the time. He called for Bobby once the last of the clothes were dry and folded neatly in the basket. "Can I take these up to my room?" He asked when Bobby appeared in the laundry room doorway.

"Yeah, get them put away then get back to the couch where I can keep an eye on you." Bobby agreed.

Craig drew in a deep breath. "Is Jack okay?" He asked the question quietly, his brothers had been in deep conversation for a few hours now.

"Yeah, he's fine. He just has some shit to get off his chest. I'm sure you know what that's like." Bobby nodded his head. "Get your clothes put away and then watch some T.V. or something." Bobby retreated back to the dining room.

Craig carried his clothes up to his room and put them away carefully, making sure his t-shirts, underwear and socks were arranged perfectly in the drawers. He hung up his blue jeans and flannel shirts, making sure they were lined up on the hangers so that they would be easy to find when he needed them. He hadn't been able to spend much time in his room lately, Bobby wouldn't let him be by himself yet, and he'd been fine with that, but he was missing his space, his bed, his dresser, his clock. With Jack home now he thought that maybe it was time for him to break free from Bobby a little. If he asked, Bobby might let him sleep in his own room. He had let him come upstairs on own, so it wasn't as if Bobby wasn't ready to let him have a little freedom. He figured he'd wait to ask his oldest brother later, when it was closer to bedtime. He returned to the couch, and turned on the T.V., though he really wasn't interested in watching anything.

As he flipped through the channels he came across a Christmas show that was run every year. He'd watched some of the Christmas specials when he was little, after he'd come to live with Evelyn. His real parents had never told him about Christmas, or given gifts, or had a tree. His father didn't have the heart for Christmas, he was too mean, and selfish. Craig had never been exposed to anything good while he'd lived with his real parents, and Christmas was a concept the seven year old couldn't quite comprehend in the beginning.

He had grown to love Christmas. It was his favorite time of the year. He could remember his first Christmas in Evelyn Mercer's house, seven years old and he'd only been there for a couple of months. He'd never experienced Christmas before and it had seemed magical and surreal to him. A tree in the living room full of colored lights and ornaments, a few gifts nestled under the tree wrapped in brightly decorated paper with ribbons and bows. He'd heard his first stories of some generous old man called Santa Claus who used special magic to travel around the world and leave presents for the good little girls and boys who ate all of their dinner and didn't scratch themselves until they bled. He hadn't believed it until that morning when Evelyn came into his room early and woke him. He could hear Bobby, Jerry, Angel and Jack yelling for him to hurry as they ran down the stairs, their feet pounding out thunder that filled the whole house.

Evelyn had held his hand all the way down the stairs. The only light downstairs was the Christmas tree, lit brightly with more presents under it than the seven year old could count. He knew his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. His foster brothers were all gathering around the tree, Bobby was picking up boxes and reading off names. Evelyn had sat down in the chair closest to the record player and started the Christmas music playing before pulling the seven year old into her lap and instructed the other boys to go ahead and start. It had been total chaos after that. Bobby handed out presents and Craig was amazed when he was handed one. He held onto his present and watched as the other boys ripped into theirs, paper flying and yells of satisfaction ringing out. Evelyn had leaned closer and told him he could open his gift. He'd looked at her. "But I want to save it." He had told her in a whisper.

"Well you have to open that one before you can open the next one." Evelyn tried to explain.

Bobby had carried another box over to him then. "Here you go runt, get started already so we can see what you got." He'd grunted the words.

Evelyn had to urge him for a few more minutes before he opened the first present, and then the second. He was surprised when Bobby passed more boxes to Angel and told him to hand them to Craig. There were other gifts that were handed to Evelyn, and she told Craig to move to the floor so that she could open her own presents.

He'd gotten a lot of clothes that first Christmas, some crayons and coloring books. He had gotten some toys too, and he'd been thankful for those, he'd never had toys before, and he wasn't used to playing. He had tried to figure them out, especially when Jerry and Jack had shown some very deep interest in some of the toys that morning, making a point to play with him for a little while. Jack had to explain who Superman was when he'd opened up a Superman action figure. Jerry had explained how to use the hand held game that was supposed to help him learn numbers and letters. Angel had moved in then to ask Craig about the magic set he'd gotten and he'd opened it up and told him all about how the tricks worked.

Bobby had started picking up wrapping paper and stuffing it into a trash bag while Evelyn opened her gifts and seemed to make a big deal out of each and every one that she'd received.

Bobby didn't seem to pay much attention when Craig opened up the box containing the hockey jersey that was just his size, but as soon as it was out of the box Bobby was there next to him, making him put it on. At the time Craig had no idea who Chris Osgood or the Red Wings were, but Bobby seemed thrilled with the jersey and the number thirty.

The toys seemed to lose their thrill once the older boys lost interest in playing with him, but he had clung to his crayons all day, and had actually hidden them under his pillow that night when he went to bed, fearful that whatever magic had brought them to him would make them vanish at the end of the day. He wasn't sure if anything he had gotten that morning would still be there when he woke up the next day, it all had seemed too good to be true, like a dream, and he was afraid of it all being erased. Of course they had been there the next day, and he had realized that the toys, the crayons and the clothes were really his, and he could keep them forever if he wanted.

He'd had the thrill of Christmas for a couple of years before realizing it wasn't Santa Claus that brought the presents, but his mother and brothers. Evelyn and Bobby would load the boxes under the tree the night before and they were gifts that were purchased by them all to give to each other. Craig had been crushed at first. He'd like believing in something magical for the first time in his life. Christmas had remained his favorite time of the year though. He'd been looking forward to it this year, just as he had every other year since that first one when he was seven. He'd looked forward to spending the time with his mother, and helping her decorate the tree, listening to the stories tied to each ornament and decoration that she pulled from the boxes. He had made some of the ornaments in school, so his stories were part of the other stories that she told, and he liked the feeling of being a part of something special.

His mother wasn't around for this Christmas. They weren't even going to have a tree. He felt his throat tighten up at the thought of facing Christmas without his mother. He already missed her, and still yearned to hear her voice, how was he going to face Christmas without her? There would be no presents, but that didn't bother him, it was the traditions that she had insisted they follow every year that had made Christmas so special, and none of that was going to happen. Part of him felt that it would be too hard to try to carry out the holiday routine without her, but another part of him felt that if they at least tried, then it could feel like a small part of her was still there. His right arm started to itch, and he reached up to scratch it. He realized it wasn't a normal itch; it was the itch that would persist if he continued to let his mind venture into his memories.

Craig turned the channel on the television, wanting to forget about Christmas, and the memories surrounding that day. He found a rerun of an old sit-com and kept the channel there. He picked up his sketch pad and opened it to a clean page, not really feeling like drawing at the moment, but wanting to keep his hands busy. The itch on his arm continued, and he glanced up at Bobby, who was still in the dining room talking with Jack; thinking he should probably tell his brother that he had the urge to scratch, but he didn't want to get in the way of the time Jack seemed to need with Bobby. He started a new sketch, not letting his mind draw what it wanted to, but forcing it to draw mountains and a stream, with a deer standing at the water's edge, drinking. He concentrated hard to keep the memories of that first Christmas from creeping back into his thoughts, and slowly he was able to drive down the itching on his arm.

* * *

Adam Macks stood next to his car, smoking his second cigarette in ten minutes. He'd didn't like waiting around for other people, but here he was, standing in the cold, waiting. What choice did he have? He needed the cash to back his operation, and he needed it fast, before anyone else moved in on any of Sweet's business dealings.

The white pearl finish of the Lincoln Navigator caught his attention as it pulled onto the black top finish of the parking lot. He felt his back straighten up and his muscles tensed. The man in the passenger seat looked irritated. Well he should be. He'd been working with Victor Sweet for years now, and the man had lost a lot of money when Sweet turned up dead. There were deals that were falling though now. A lot of money had been lost and important connections with the police and city and county officials had been severed with the death of one man. Connections both Adam Macks needed and the man in the Lincoln needed.

Macks had been feeling the sting, but he also seen the opportunity. There was no one to take over Sweet's dealings. No one to pick up where he'd left off. Adam knew he could handle it. He just needed a little backing, a partner so to speak. He had a few men on his payroll, but nothing like he needed to move in and take over Victor Sweet's territory.

The Navigator pulled to a stop next to Adam, and Jessup Winston stepped from the vehicle, scowling at the man in front of him as smoke from his cigarette drifted into his face, "Put the fucking smoke out." He spoke with a detestable tone.

Adam sucked in a deep draw off the filter before flicking the cigarette away. He purposely exhaled in the direction of Jessup, snickering when the smoke blew into the man's face. "Don't order me around Winston. I'm here to deal with you, not asking for work." He growled out the words with the raspy voice he'd acquired from years of smoking and drinking too much. "You might want to show me a little more respect."

Jessup Winston frowned as he waved the smoke away from his face. "You want respect Macks? That's not the way to earn in from me." Winston still sounded pissed. "What the hell is so important that you had to drag my ass out into the fucking cold in the middle of nowhere?" The man looked at the building behind Adam Macks. "What the hell is this place?"

"This is the place where Victor Sweet made his last big mistake." Macks turned and looked at the warehouse. "This was where he held my son, promised to hand him over to me, like we had agreed. He refused to turn my son over to me, so I didn't warn him about the trap that he was walking into." The man laughed.

Winston looked at the man with skepticism. "You knew what was going down and you didn't stop it?" His voice was quiet, and laced with antagonism.

"Yeah, Jessup, I knew. I was going to tell him. But the fucker wouldn't give me the kid. Our deal was pretty clear, I thought. I want my kid back, and I'm getting fucking tired of waiting around for other people to keep their end of the deal. Sweet promised me one thing, and then shit on me with some bull shit about me owin' him money because he couldn't stop a few second class street hoods. He let the Mercers walk all over him, and couldn't even get a single one of them killed. He walked his ass into that one, and I ain't sorry he's dead. Are you sorry?" Adam asked with sarcasm.

Jessup let out an exaggerated huff of frustration. "He may have been an ass, you idiot, but he owned half of this city, and we needed that. Both of us needed that. I got a lot of fucking ass kissing to do now, just to get close to the connections he'd established."

"No, you don't." Macks smiled and shook his head. "I know who his connections were. I got names; I got information these so called 'connections' don't want to leak out. I already made a few calls, and I got what I need on my end. I got cops, the same cops Sweet had. I own this fucking building now." He motioned to the warehouse behind him. "This is my shop, this is gonna be my territory. I already got the papers on half the dealings Sweet had in his pocket. The question is do you want to be a part of it?"

Winston's eyes narrowed down on the man in front of him. He glanced at the beat up Dodge Neon next to Macks, and the grey coat that looked as if it had been worn for years without being cleaned. "How the fuck does slime like you get a hand in on the dealings that Victor Sweet had going?" He asked. "Where did you get the money to finance any of that shit?"

"I didn't need much to start out, but I will need more. I need men, and you got men." Macks drew in a deep breath. "Together we could own this whole city, not just half of it." He smiled.

"I don't work for no one. I got my own dealings; I don't need Sweet's, or any of your sick business to drag me down." Jessup spoke calmly. "I got standards, and unlike Sweet, pimpin' out kids is below me."

"I'm not offering you work Jessup. I'm trying to make a deal with my new partner." Macks smiled again, this time it looked evil, and deceptive. He didn't like being talked down to. He'd had to work hard to get where he was, and his business had brought in the money, that was all that mattered.

"And if I refuse to partner up with you on any of this?" Jessup asked.

Adam Macks looked at the man for a long moment. "It's a free country Jessup. You and I have worked together before; you know I am capable of moving in and taking over Victor Sweet's business, hell I already have half of it in my pocket. You would be a fool not to be a part of this, and you know it. But if you don't want to be a partner, I have no problem with having my man in the building blow your fucking head off your shoulders right now, and then I can just take over your dealings as well. Hell, I wouldn't need to share a fucking thing if I did that, now would I?" His voice sounded icy.

Jessup Winston turned and looked at the building in just enough time to see the flash from the barrel of a gun as the sound of the gun shot filled the air. A split second later the windshield of the Navigator shattered and the driver slumped over the wheel.

"Jesus Christ Macks!" Jessup sounded scared as he moved a few steps back from the man in front of him.

"I need you Jessup. I'm not asking for you to work for me, I'm talking fifty percent of everything. You got the backing for what I need; I got the knowledge of Sweet's business dealings. I have names and all the fucking dirt to keep important people working with us. I don't want you dead, I need you. That was just to show you that I mean business. So what is it going to be?" Adam asked, in the most business like a voice he could use.

"I never said I wasn't interested you stupid fuck. That was a good man. He has a wife and kids at home." Winston looked at the dead man in his car. He turned back to look at Adam. "Just so you know; I have my own insurance." He waved his hand and two men came around the side of the warehouse carrying automatic weapons. "Try anything else and you're dead." He warned.

Adam laughed. "Looks like we both have trust issues here." He nodded his head. "So what, are you up for this little challenge my friend?"

Jessup drew in a deep breath. "I'm interested. But we ain't gonna continue this talk here. If we are going to come up with a deal, we're gonna do it on my own territory, where I have some security, and insurance." He sounded determined.

"That's fine. You tell me where and when, and I'll be there with my men. Just remember. You fuck with me, or try to out me, I'm the only one with the information needed to make this work. Anything happens to me, and you got nothin'." Adam agreed. He knew he had nothing to fear, he had the upper hand, and there was nothing Winston could do about it.

"I'll call you." Jessup waved his men over to him. "Get the body out of the fucking car." He ordered them and looked at Adam. "You got a dead body to get rid of." He told him once the man's remains were laying on the blacktop.

Adam watched Winston and his men get into the SUV and drive away. He smiled, knowing he was finally going to get what he wanted, what he deserved. He was going to have Victor Sweet's business, Jessup Winston's men, a whole lot of fucking money, and his kid was going to be in his hands again.

He looked at the dead man laying on the blacktop in front of him, admiring the black leather coat he was wearing. He hoped there wasn't much blood on it. He felt his back straighten as he thought about how good he would look in that coat. Yep, it was turning out to be a good day.


	4. Chapter 4

As always, thanks for reading. Let me know what you think, I'm addicted to reviews people, so please comment, good or bad, I'm open for suggestions and advice!

Legal statement still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 4: Respect**

Bobby helped Jack walk to the living room later in the afternoon, after spending hours with him in the dining room. Craig had remained on the couch, where Bobby could check on him with just a glance through the doorway. He'd had to use the restroom a few times, and was given permission to go on his own each time. He had moved to the chair next to the fireplace when Bobby brought Jack in, Bobby took up one end of the couch while Jack laid his self out on the other end. Bobby had Craig help him get some soup warmed up and the three of them ate their dinner in the living room, watching television.

After they ate Craig washed the dishes and Bobby dried them after taking Jack some of the items needed to change the bag at the end of the tube that was still draining fluid from his healing lung. The time spent on clean up was short since there had only been three of them eating. When they returned to the living room Craig noticed that Jack was still changing the bag on the end of the tube.

"Why do you have to have that?" Craig asked out of curiosity as he leaned up his chair to look at what Jack was doing.

Jack glanced up at the teen. "The lung is still healing, and it makes fluid as it does. This drains the fluid out of the lung." Jack explained in a quiet voice. "I have to keep this clean." He pulled up the loose fitting t-shirt he was wearing and showed the boy the incision where the tube had been slid into him. "It can come out in about a week. There will be a nurse that comes by a few times a week to check on it, and make sure it's not getting infected." He looked at Craig. "You want to clean it for me?"

Craig felt his nerves start to dance around in his body. "I might do it wrong." He muttered, shaking his head. "I don't understand why they sent you home if you still needed that, I mean, shouldn't a nurse check on it more than a few times a week?" Craig asked.

Bobby looked over. "He's fine Craig." He spoke quickly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'd rather be home. I'd be doing the exact same thing in the hospital that I'm doing here at home, and I don't need round the clock care, and I can change this bag when it needs changing. I just need someone to clean the incision. You can't do it wrong; you don't have to worry about that. It's kind of hard for me to reach it. I need someone to clean it good and make sure that tube it taped down so it doesn't get pulled on by anything." Jack looked the boy in the eyes, and Craig was sure he could see something behind the gaze, trust, or confidence, or something. "Why don't you give it a try for me?"

Craig shook his head again. "I'll screw it up Jack." He had never been good with blood, and it was easy to see a little blood had seeped out around the tube where it entered Jack's skin. He didn't want to make the man worse off than he already was by not cleaning the area correctly and cause an infection.

"I'm gonna be cleaning the fucking thing." Bobby spoke up. "I'm looking forward to it." He laughed a little as he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. "Nurse Sarah showed me how to do it right, I'll be the one taking care of Jackie's little tube."

Jack was looking at Craig, and it was obvious that Bobby's comment had struck the younger man as being humorous. The corners of his mouth turned up as he fought to hold in a smile. "Bobby, how many times do I have to tell you I'm not gay?" He turned and looked at the man. "You can keep your hands off of my tube. You need to go find yourself a boyfriend brother, and leave me the fuck alone."

Bobby looked over at Jack with a stunned look on his face. "Not bad little brother. But you got an ass kicking comin' as soon as you're healed up enough. It's not right to start something like that when you know I can't smack the shit out of you because you're healing up." He shook his head. "That's just not right." He shook his head as he seemed to regain some composure. "But that wasn't a bad slam." He looked back at the television and picked up the remote control, scanning through the channels as he always did.

"Oh hell, I'm gonna take advantage of it while I can." Jack laughed and returned his attention to the small bag at the end of the tube for a few minutes before pulling his shirt back down and sitting back against the pillows. He looked at Craig. "You still drawing pictures?" He asked the boy.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "Some." He muttered.

"Can I see any of them?" Jack asked, glancing at the sketch pad that was lying out on the coffee table.

Craig was taken off guard for a moment. He had only shared a few pictures with his brothers, and he wasn't sure how comfortable he was sharing any more, at least not at the moment, "Maybe later?" He asked weakly.

Jack sighed. "Come on, you let me see a picture, and I'll write a song for you." He urged. "But it has to be an important picture."

Craig shook his head again, looking away from Jack and focusing his attention on the television. No, he was not showing him any of the pictures he was hinting at. He might show him the one of the meadow that he'd done earlier that morning while waiting for his brothers to come home, or the one with the deer drinking out of the stream that he'd worked on that afternoon, but none of the 'important' pictures. He couldn't show those to anyone, not even Jack.

Bobby's boot stomped down on the table, drawing the boy's attention to him. "You answer him; you don't shake your head." Bobby was looking at him, his forehead creased slightly. "You've been doin' good lately, don't start that shit now."

Craig looked at Jack. "I don't want to show any pictures right now." He muttered, glancing back at Bobby for a moment before looking back at Jack.

"Okay, that's fine, but you're gonna show me some later, right?" Jack pushed.

Craig shrugged his shoulders again, "Maybe." He wasn't going to promise. He turned and looked back at the television, not paying any attention to the looks between Bobby and Jack.

Bobby and Jack talked a little back and forth that evening, making fun of the commercials that came on between the programs, and planning out the rest of the week, working out schedules and routines. Craig sat in the chair and let himself get lost in his thoughts about school, though he really didn't want to think about it. Thoughts about Christmas, which crept into his mind every so often, and thoughts about Jack, and how much he wanted to talk to him, but didn't think he was going to be able to.

He knew part of it was the fear of facing his own past by talking to Jack. He tried to reason it out, thinking that it was going to be impossible to be alone with Jack long enough to really talk the way he'd been wanting to. He'd been anticipating the chance to really feel as if he wasn't the only person in the world who had been hurt the way he had. Sure, he knew there were other people out there with a similar history as his, but he didn't really know anyone else that he could talk to the way he would be able to talk to Jack. There was no one else in the world that he would feel closer to by talking about it. He knew he would feel closer to Jack, feel a connection, and he wanted that, but at the same time it scared him. He told himself that it could wait. He could wait until Jack felt better. He had to show his brother that much respect.

* * *

Adam Mack stood with his back against the bar, looking out at the people around him, drinking and having a good time. He'd put a lot of time and effort into getting his hands on the bar. Having the dirt on certain people had helped him to acquire it in a not so legal way, but he had it, and it had come pretty cheap, considering. It had been one of Victor Sweet's bars, and that man didn't own dumps. He owned the high class shit, and now Adam Macks was the sole owner and proprietor. Of course, once he struck his deal with Jessup Winston they would own the property fifty-fifty, but that was fine with him. He didn't care if he was sharing the reputation, the image, so long as he was a part of it. He was moving up and he was going to finally get the respect that he deserved. He wasn't fighting for that respect any longer, he was demanding it. He deserved what he was getting. After years of living in shit holes, with drugged up whores, he was finally getting what he'd been craving all of his life. Money, power, control; that was what life was all about and he'd been fighting for it far too long.

He didn't like people looking down on him, he didn't like the distain behind the stares when other people heard his name and looked at him. He had worked hard to get where he was, and he'd taken a lot of shit from a lot of people, including Victor Sweet. He was glad that he'd let the man get himself killed. He had been too full of himself, and he'd gotten what he deserved. In the end, it was leading to Adam Macks getting what he deserved.

He'd deserved it fifteen years ago when he was finishing his senior year in high school. He'd been a good student, making good grades, and doing things right, like his parents had wanted him to. They'd made his plans for him, what schools he would go to, and what kind of doctor he was going to be. He had obeyed them like a fucking robot. His future was right there, planned out and laid out for him, with his parents' money to get him where he needed to be. He had dreaded it. He'd wanted more, but what he wanted didn't matter to them. They were his parents and what they told him was the law. God forbid if he went against their wishes.

Then he'd met Lydia, and his life had gone to hell. She was a sweet thing, hazel eyes, and blond hair. Damn, he'd fallen in love with those eyes the first time he seen them. He did love her, he truly did. She had shown him a side of life that he'd never seen before. Needles, and whiskey, and damn that woman could fuck all night. It had been cause for his parents to start with their threats, but he was in love, not just with Lydia, but with the drugs and the booze, and he no longer gave a fuck what his parents said or did.

Then she got pregnant. Damn kid. He didn't want the kid. He didn't want to be no daddy. The shame that was brought to his family name had been the final straw for his parents. They cut him out of their lives, and threw him out of the house. He didn't care at the time though. He loved Lydia. He didn't want the kid, but she did. She made plenty of money whoring herself out, and she cleaned herself up enough to give birth. He'd had to start bringing in money somehow, and he'd found his perfect niche. He learned the business of drugs and whores quickly, easily, as if that was what he was born to do. It was the only way to bring in enough money to support his habit and hers, and keep a baby in diapers and milk.

He'd found he liked the control he had over other people. He liked making decisions about their lives, and making them follow his orders, no matter how painful the results might be for them. He liked it, and found he craved that control as badly as he craved the drugs he shot into his arms and the booze he drowned his life in daily. Then the little bastard started getting older. He taught the kid how to obey him before he was out of diapers. He hated that brat more every day, but he found himself wanting to keep him close. He liked the fact that he had a kid that he could keep control of and groom for his business.

The problem was Lydia. She coddled the boy too much. She actually liked being a Mama to him. She didn't have the cold heart that Adam Macks had developed, but she had made him who he was. Damn bitch didn't understand that, didn't want her kid to live the same kind of life she lived. The first time she left him and got herself cleaned up, he thought that would be it, he didn't need her, or the brat to drag him down. Then he found he did need her. He needed to be able to look at her when he was tired, and touch her when his heart was aching. He found her and worked his way back into her life, telling her it would be different, he would get a real job, and he'd clean up just like she had. It was really too easy. She wanted him, she loved him, and she wanted her fucking drugs. She wanted her kid to have a good daddy to teach him how to play baseball and fish while she was strung out on whatever shit she could get her hands on. Hell, he taught his kid alright. He taught him well. He taught him to keep quiet, and do what the fuck he was told. He taught him a lot of things, but he never taught him the shit she wanted him to.

He did try to get a real job though, he truly did. But he didn't have any skills, no job history. He had to keep on doing what he had come to know. Besides, the craving for respect and control started to take over. He'd take the kid out and make a hell of a lot of money and tell his wife he was taking him to daycare while he was at work. She was usually too drugged up to really care anyway.

The next time she decided to stop the dope and get clean she'd left him and it had been harder for him to find her. But he had found her. He'd found her desperate for rent money, and food for the kid. He'd found her emotionally wrecked and at her wits end. Hell, he only had to pull one little fix out, dangle it in front of her and she was back with him in a matter of seconds. He was back with her actually. He moved in and he and his son's relationship took up where it left off. He stopped sleeping with his wife, and the stupid broad didn't even realize it.

She left a few other times, each time she took his money maker son with her when she left. It would piss him off. He hadn't wanted the bastard; he despised the fact that the kid had been the catalyst of his parents' severing their ties to him, severing his ties to their money. He'd imagined so many times what it would be like to hold the little shit under the water until he stopped breathing. He'd almost done it a few times, stopping himself just as the life was starting to drain from the small body, knowing that the only good thing that had come out of being a father was the money the kid brought in. And he did bring in good money. Rich old men who had their sick desires and were willing to pay a lot of money to get their kicks while keeping it all hidden. He'd found other desperate parents, willing to hand their kids over and let them earn the money to support their habit. He had his control, he had his power, but it wasn't enough. Who the hell wanted to have power over kids and desperate druggies? That wasn't nearly as much as he could get. He needed to be able to control more than that. Kids were easy, but to be in charge of a real operation, the kind of operation that Sweet had, now that was power. Of course Victor Sweet hadn't come by his power with much hard work. He'd killed his own uncle to gain what he acquired.

Then the damn bitch had walked in on him, teaching his son a new lesson. If the fucking brat hadn't made so much noise, crying about how much it hurt, it would never have happened. Lydia had freaked out, already high, and too hyper to really know what the fuck she was doing. He had no choice. He'd already planned out what he would have to do if she ever caught him. But it wasn't so bad by then, he'd stopped loving her, or his self, or anything about his life. He'd grown immune of all emotions except the desire to own and control and possess. He'd done just as much crack as she had that night, and his whole body was buzzing with anticipation. She'd interrupted him and he had to kill her. He had to point the gun at her and fire that bullet into her brain. It had felt good, and it had felt right.

That fucking brat, he was supposed to die too, but the damn gun jammed and despite all the years of threats, and training and beatings, that kid had enough fucking nerve to try to run from him. He could still feel the rage that had surged through him at that moment. He'd gotten the gun to work and he'd shot him. Damn it he'd shot him down, the little fuck. He had made sure he knew it was his fault. Every bad thing that had happened to Adam Macks was because of that kid. Everything his parents had done, everything Lydia had done, everything Adam himself had done was all because that kid was born and should never have been. He beat that into the kid while he was lying on the floor in his mother's pooling blood. He beat it and kicked it into him until the door burst open and the cops showed up.

Adam sighed as he came out of his thoughts, turned to one of his new employees behind the bar and demanded another whiskey. He had been busy the past couple of weeks, talking to the people he needed in his back pocket, finding loop holes in contracts that had originally been in Sweet's name, and taking over, one business, one deal at a time. He'd stepped in and taken control of collecting 'Insurance' money from many of the businesses in the neighborhood, and forcing those who had partnered with Sweet out of duress to partner with him now. He had some other dealings to work through, but everything was falling into place much easier than he'd anticipated.

There was going to be some business that he would need Jessup Winston to step in and use his name for though. When they approached Jeremiah Mercer, to force him to partner up with his condo deal, he didn't want his name mentioned anywhere. He couldn't risk Mercer knowing he was still out there, waiting for the right moment to take back what was his, and damn it, he was going to get back what was his. He was going to get his son back and remind him what he was put on this earth for. He was going to remind him who his daddy was. He was going to have the chance to release the rage that had been bottled up inside of him since that last night, and he would finally finish what he'd started.


	5. Chapter 5

As always, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)

Don't own, and make no money...

* * *

**Chapter 5: Breakfast of Champions**

Craig glanced over at Bobby when nine o'clock rolled around. He'd been going to bed between nine and ten, and Bobby would usually walk him up and apply the cream the doctor had prescribed while he was changing his clothes. They would get into bed and then Bobby would start talking, pushing the boy to talk to him. It didn't matter what they talked about really. Bobby seemed to think the talking part helped with the sleeping part, but it really didn't help that much. The nightmares still tried to sneak into his mind, tried to invade his temporary safe haven. Bobby would wake him when he could tell the boy was dreaming, that was what had kept him from having any real nightmares, kept him from walking in his sleep and waking the entire house with his screaming. Bobby was laughing at the television now, not paying any attention to what time it was. Jack seemed to be getting uncomfortable on the couch around nine thirty and that was when Bobby checked his watch. "Craig, you can go on up and get ready for bed. I'm going to tuck Jack in all nice and cozy down here and then I'll be up." Bobby looked at Jack and grinned. "You're ready to go all night-night, aren't you sweet heart?"

"Actually, yeah, I'm kind of tired." Jack nodded his head. "You still need to clean this thing." He motioned to the drainage tube under his shirt.

Bobby nodded his head and looked at Craig. "You can get yourself taken care of on your own, can't you? The tube is in the medicine cabinet."

Craig nodded his head. "Yeah," He stood and started for the foyer. He turned when he reached the doorway. "Bobby, can I sleep in my room tonight?" He truly wanted to try sleeping on his own. He was missing his room, and his own space. He also thought it would make it easier on Bobby if he didn't have to keep an eye on him and try to watch over Jack at that the same time. Jack needed Bobby more than he did right then.

Bobby looked up at him, his eyebrows raised. "You think you can sleep okay in your room?" He asked after a few moments.

Craig nodded his head. "Yeah, I think I can."

"What are you going to do if you have a nightmare?" Bobby asked.

"Yell for you." Craig spoke quickly.

"If you need to go to the restroom to take a piss," Bobby pushed.

"Yell for you." Craig repeated.

Bobby drew in a deep breath and shook his head. "I don't know kid; I don't think you're ready to sleep in your room by yourself yet." He spoke carefully.

"If I can't sleep I'll yell for you." Craig spoke quickly. "I have to go back to my own room sometime." He kept his gaze on Bobby, who was shaking his head. "I miss my room Bobby." He added, seeing his brother was considering it, but not quite sure.

Bobby looked at him, "Okay, but if you take one step out of that room on your own I'll burn your ass. You are still on restriction, and you're gonna be on restriction for a hell of a long time." He warned. "I don't want no repeat from the last time I trusted you in your room by yourself."

"I swear I won't leave my room." Craig shook his head.

"Well then get your ass up there, I'll come up and check on you as soon as I get Cracker Jack taken care of." Bobby sat up and looked at Jack. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready." Jack nodded his head. He looked tired.

Craig turned and headed up the stairs quickly, afraid that Bobby would change his mind if he lingered any longer. He changed his clothes in his room, then went to the restroom and took care of business in there, including putting the cream on himself. He didn't really think he still needed the cream, but Bobby insisted they would use it until it ran out. He washed his hands, brushed his teeth, and went back to his room, hurrying so that he'd be in his room when Bobby came upstairs to check on him. He left the lamp turned on when he got into bed. Bobby had been keeping the light on at night; it was easier for him to sleep with it. He also kept the door open, preferring to able to hear the television and his brothers' voices and movement in the other areas of the house. The sounds were faint, but he could hear them. He rolled onto his left side and felt his body relax.

It felt good to be in his bed. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. He knew Bobby would be in the next room if he needed him and had to yell for him for whatever reason. He knew he was safe in the house. His bedroom had been his first real bedroom, even though Bobby always said it was too small, he liked it.

It had been the first real bedroom he'd ever been able to really call his and felt safe in. He could feel old fears trying to worm their way into his brain, but he forced them back and made himself think about the first time he'd seen the room. He closed his eyes and pictured it in his mind. He'd been seven years old and it had been the perfect size for him. There had been no closets for monsters to hide in, and despite the fact that everyone, including Evelyn had told him repeatedly that there were no such thing as monsters, he knew differently. He knew of one monster that was very real, and that monster had never let him feel safe in his room, or any place else. He had sat up in bed that first night, waiting for a monster to come in for him, but it had never happened. Over time, that room had become the safest place he'd ever known.

As he started to drift off to sleep he concentrated on that safe feeling. He listened to Bobby's faint voice drifting up from below, and thought for sure the man would come up to check on him before he actually fell asleep, but the voice remained downstairs, and Jack's voice blended in with Bobby's. He heard Angel and Sofi coming in the front door, but that was all he remembered. He fell asleep with an odd mixture of disappointment and security all wound up inside of him. He knew that if Jack hadn't been home Bobby never would have let him go to his own room, he was sure of that, and that bothered him, though he knew it shouldn't. He had wanted to come to his own room, and he had wanted to sleep in his own bed.

That nagging feeling that he'd had when he was at Jerry's was trying to push into his gut, that feeling that his brothers seemed to make it too easy for him to pull away from them if he chose to. That wasn't what he was trying to do, but it had still been pretty easy for him to get into his own bed. He hadn't had to do much talking to get Bobby to let him sleep by himself.

Then, as he slept, his mind started playing the 'what if' game with him. What if Jack coming home changed everything? He hadn't considered that before, he'd wanted Jack to come home as badly as his other brothers, maybe even more. What if Bobby didn't really want another younger brother, but Craig had been the only younger brother around for the past couple of weeks to be a big brother to? What if his brothers went back to ignoring him, and not liking him? Bobby had said he had to stop thinking things like that, and he'd been trying not to think them, but even in his sleep that side of his brain that was still holding all the fear was telling him that now that Jack was home he would go back to being nothing more than an afterthought as far as his brothers were concerned.

He was still a lot younger than they were, and they still couldn't include him in most of what they did. They had all been hanging around the house most of the time the past weekend, but only because they had to get windows in and walls patched before Jack came home. Any other time they liked to go out and have fun. It wasn't as if Craig could go with them.

That first week after Evelyn's murder they had taken him everywhere, including a bar, but only because Bobby didn't trust him, and was pissed at him. That was the reason Bobby had kept him so close this past week, because Craig had screwed up and taken off from Jerry's, and they'd found out he'd lied about things to them. Bobby had Jack to concentrate on now, and Craig could feel a shift in the way Bobby was talking to him and acting with him. It was going back to the way it had been before his mother was killed.

The other side of his brain, the side that had been listening to his brothers' words and believing them reminded him that it was his own fear that caused him to pull away. He had to trust his brothers, and believe they loved him and wanted him there. If he would just let go of the old insecurities and trust them, then everything would be okay. He would be able to talk to Jack, and find out just how much of their history was the same. Bobby wasn't pissed at him anymore and that was a good thing. It meant that he trusted him a little, and that's what he'd wanted. He didn't want to feel like a small child and drag his brothers down all of the time. He was old enough to be able to deal with what was going on inside of him and he had to stop turning into a little kid every time he got a little scared.

His mind battled back and forth all night long, but he didn't really dream. He slept, but the sleep was full of words and thoughts. He was sure he tossed and turned some, but he didn't have any nightmares. When he woke daylight was bending around the edges of the curtain that hung in the small window next to his bed. He sat up slowly and looked at the clock on his dresser. It was almost seven. He listened for a few moments, but didn't hear any sounds in the house. He had no idea how long Bobby had stayed up, but he had to go pee and he didn't think he could wait.

His bedroom door was still open and the light was still on. He stood and walked to his door, listening again, but only hearing the faint sound of the furnace running. "Bobby?" He called quietly, afraid of waking Angel and Sofi in the room next to his.

He waited another few moments, and then called again, a little louder. "Bobby?" He was expecting the door to his mother's room to open, but instead he seen Bobby appear at on the landing on the stairway.

"Craig, what are you doing up so early?" Bobby asked quietly, something unusual for the man.

"It's almost seven." Craig answered. "I have to pee." He kept his own voice quiet.

"Go on, and then get your shit together and get a shower. I didn't realize it was that late. You gotta be at the doctor's at nine, so no wasting time. I'll start your breakfast, and it should be ready by the time you get down here." Bobby disappeared from sight.

Craig stared at the empty space where Bobby had been only moments before. It bugged him that Bobby hadn't even come all the way up the stairs. He tried to reason that Bobby was probably taking care of something for Jack, and he told himself he would not go back to acting like a little kid again, getting jealous and thinking the worst. He went to the restroom and peed, then returned to his room to get some clothes. Bobby had told him the day before that he had to really dress. No more sweatpants.

Twenty minutes later Craig was walking into the kitchen wearing one of the two pairs of jeans he owned that didn't have holes anywhere in them, and a long sleeve green shirt that his mother had found at a second hand shop a few months ago. He glanced into the dining room, expecting to see Jack awake, but he appeared to be sleeping.

The boy focused on Bobby, who was frying eggs and bacon in a skillet. "I could have had cereal. " He spoke quietly when he looked into the pan to find the fried eggs had been turned into scrambled eggs, which wasn't surprising considering Bobby normally didn't actually cook.

"Yeah, well you had cereal yesterday." Bobby muttered, concentrating on the scrambled fried eggs and extremely well done bacon.

"Believe it or not Bobby, I've been known to eat cereal seven days a week. I don't mind." Craig looked up at his brother. The appearance of the food in the skillet had him a little worried. Angel was the brother with the skill for cooking. Lately any real cooking in the house had been done by Sofi.

Bobby turned and looked at him, frowning. "It will taste fine; don't look at me like that." He muttered.

"I believe you." Craig knew his voice didn't sound too convincing. He looked down at the pan again. "I think it's done." He made a face without meaning to.

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "Get the toast." He pointed to the toaster.

Craig looked over at the toaster to see smoke starting to puff out of the top of it. He stepped over and flipped the lever on the front to pop up the dark brown, almost black slices of what had once been fresh, soft white bread. The boy looked at Bobby. "Bobby, you okay?" He asked. He knew Bobby was able to make toast, he'd seen him do that before.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired, that's all. " Bobby pulled the pan away from the stove. "Get a plate and get yourself some juice." He spoke absentmindedly.

Minutes later Craig was seated at the kitchen table with the plate of food in front of him. Bobby started cleaning up stove and counter. "You can eat that while I get my shower."

"Aren't you going to eat?" Craig asked quickly.

"I ate a bowl of cereal earlier." Bobby put the dish rag on the counter next to the sink and walked out of the kitchen.

Craig looked down at the plate of what Bobby considered food and made a face. He picked up a piece of the bacon and broke it in half, ready to taste it to see if was as bad as it looked when he heard Jack's voice.

"Bobby?" Jack called out.

Craig smiled at the opportunity to get away from his breakfast. He stood quickly and went to the doorway. "He went up to take a shower." He spoke to Jack, who was sitting up awkwardly in his bed. "You need something?" He asked.

"Yeah, I want to get up." Jack muttered and shifted his body so that he could hang his legs over the side of the bed. "Do me a favor and bring me that bottle." He pointed to the bottle sitting on a shelf that Bobby had apparently cleared off to use for the medical supplies needed for Jack. Craig recognized the bottle as the one the hospital sent home for Jack to use to take a piss.

The boy got the bottle and walked it over to Jack. "I'm not gonna empty that." He warned him.

Jack shook his head and looked at Craig. "I wouldn't ask you to. I'm saving that job for Angel." He gave him a smile. "What the fuck is that smell?" He made a face.

Craig pulled one of the chairs over and sat down. "Bobby cooked breakfast." He could feel his own face forming a scowl, "If you're hungry you are more than welcome to it."

Jack shook his head again. "Dump it and get a bowl of cereal."

Craig shook his head. "He'll kill me." He muttered.

"No he won't. You don't think he knows he can't cook?" Jack asked. "Did he eat any of it?"

Craig shook his head. "No."

"Dump it. If he says anything I'll tell him I made you." Jack grinned. "It's not like he can do anything to me."

"No, he can do something to me though." Craig muttered.

"Fuck him. Go get some cereal. Bobby ain't gonna do anything." Jack stopped smiling. "Are you really that afraid of him?" He looked a little surprised.

"No, but I don't want to piss him off." Craig looked away from Jack, surprised that he had said the words. "He tends to spank me Jack." He informed.

Jack laughed. "He ain't gonna spank you for eating cereal instead of the shit he put in front of you." He shook his head.

"But he took the time to cook it." Craig spoke the words slowly. "Bobby usually doesn't cook."

"Yeah, there is a reason for that." Jack laughed again, but seemed to sense that Craig was truly afraid to dump the food. "Listen, if you dumped it and didn't eat anything, then yeah, he'd be pissed. But if you eat a bowl of cereal then he's not gonna give a shit. So long as you eat, he's not gonna get mad at you." He spoke the words quietly. "Bobby's feelings are not going to be hurt. He knows he can't cook."

Craig sighed, "Well then why did he cook it to start with?" He was starting to feel confused.

"Hell, maybe he thought he was being a good big brother." Jack shrugged his shoulders. "You know what Jerry said, Bobby just doesn't like to think things through." He held up the bottle. "Unless you want to sit there and watch me take a piss, you need to get your ass in the kitchen and get yourself a bowl of cereal."

Craig stood and put the chair back. "Okay, but I'm gonna tell him you made me." He muttered.

"I already told you to tell him that." Jack muttered as the boy walked back to the kitchen. "Go get your cereal and get your ass back in here so we can talk." He called after the boy.

Craig looked back at Jack. "You want a bowl too?" He asked.

"Hell yeah, and some juice," Jack grinned at him.

Craig walked to the table and looked at the breakfast Bobby had made for him. He considered eating it despite what Jack said; to try to please Bobby, to keep the man liking him. He was afraid of doing something that would make Bobby stop caring about him, and what if not eating the food the man had cooked for him was that something. Bobby hadn't come up to check on him the night before like he'd said he would. He had let Craig sleep in his own bed, despite the fact that he was supposed to be on restriction, or what Bobby considered restriction. He had let him go to the restroom alone and take his shower without being guarded. Even though Craig wanted the privacy, and had wanted to sleep in his own bed, he hadn't thought it would be so easy. He was afraid of doing something that would make Bobby stop caring, and what if that something was not eating the food that Bobby had taken the time to prepare?

He picked up the plate and smelled the food. No, if Bobby stopped liking him for not eating that then he'd just have to deal with it. There was no way the food would stay in his stomach once it got there. He walked the plate to the trash and slid the eggs, bacon and toast in quickly, before his brain stopped him.

Several minutes later he was carrying two bowls of cereal into the dining room and setting them on the table. Jack motioned him over to the bed and slid an arm around his shoulder. "You don't have to hold onto me, just let me lean on you the few steps to the table." He instructed before standing.

"Jack if you fall…" Craig didn't feel comfortable with his brother's safety in his hands.

"Its fine, I'm not gonna fall." Jack stepped carefully to the nearest chair.

Once Jack was seated at the end of the table Craig slid the man's bowl over to him and sat down in the chair on Jack's left with his own cereal.

"Why do you worry so much kid?" Jack asked.

"I don't worry, I just…" Craig shrugged his shoulders, knowing Jack was right, he did worry. He worried about everything.

"Don't bullshit me, man." Jack took a bite of the cereal. "So, when are you gonna let me see some pictures?" He asked.

Craig looked at Jack for a long moment and opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't get an answer to come out.

"I was hoping you and me would have a chance to talk once I got home. Are we gonna have the chance to do that? I mean, do you want to do that?" Jack kept his gaze on the boy.

Craig nodded his head. "Yeah, I just thought, you just got home, and you still don't feel very good, and…" Craig could feel his nerves dancing in his stomach.

"Craig, I'm fine. I'm worried about you though." Jack drew in a deep breath.

Craig shook his head quickly. "I'm fine Jack." He was lying, he knew it and he knew Jack could tell.

"You might be doin' better, but you aren't fine." Jack laughed. "Hell, you ain't over the shock from all the shit that went down." He took another bite of his cereal.

"I'll be fine." Craig muttered. "I'm glad you're home, I've wanted you to come home so I could talk to you. It's just, well now you're home, we got time." He managed to get a bite of cereal in his mouth. He was being honest that time. He felt anxious saying that little bit to Jack, and he knew that really talking to him, asking him the questions he wanted to ask and having to tell him the things he would want to know was going to be hard, but he still wanted to have that talk with him.

"You remember one thing kid; I do know what the hell you went through, okay?" Jack reached out with his hand and rested it on Craig's shoulder. "And I know that if you keep it all bottled up inside, it's gonna eat you alive. Drawing the pictures and getting it out of your head the way you do is good but it only gets you so far. When I first started talking about it I was terrified, but once I did, it started to feel better. The bad shit didn't go away, but I felt better."

Craig took another bite of cereal and thought about Jack's words as he chewed. "Jack?" He swallowed his food and looked at the man.

Jack looked at him, chewing on his own food.

"Who did you talk to?" Craig asked.

"Bobby mostly," Jack shrugged his shoulders, "And Mom."

"Is that why Bobby jokes about you being gay?" Craig asked the question quietly, it was one of the biggest fears he had, Bobby making fun of him, and not letting him forget what had happened to him for most of his life.

Jack nearly spit out the food that was in his mouth and he couldn't stop the laugh that had struck him. "Hell no," He finally managed to get the food down and speak. "He called me that before he ever knew anything about me."

Craig was confused.

"Just after I got here, Mom bought me the movie, Peter Pan." Jack spoke slowly, "I liked Tinkerbelle and I was kind of young, I used to pretend I was a little fairy flying all around the house. Bobby started calling me 'Fairy' then. In fact, it wasn't until I was old enough to know what a fairy was that he took it to the next level. He didn't know anything about what had happened to me." Jack shook his head. "I told him because I thought he'd stop, but he told me he couldn't do that."

The statement confused Craig even more. "Why?"

"You have to remember its Bobby's logic at work. He called me 'Fairy' because it was his way of showing me how much he cared, and if he stopped he didn't have any other way to show me." Jack laughed. "If he hadn't called me that, I probably never would have talked to him to start with, and I'd still be walking around here thinking I didn't fit in, and that no one really loved me." He turned serious and fixed his gaze on the boy. "And that's how you're feeling, I know it. You have to stop. You have to let it go Craig."

Craig started to answer Jack, but he didn't have the chance.

"What the fuck!" Bobby's voice rang out from the kitchen, and a moment later he was standing in the kitchen doorway with the trash can in his hand.

Craig turned and looked at him. "Jack made me." He spoke quickly before Bobby had the chance to start yelling at him.

Bobby looked at the boy and then at Jack.

"Bobby, that shit would have put him the fucking hospital. You don't cook for a reason man." Jack sat back in his chair, a smile on his face. "He's eating cereal."

"Damn it, I wasted good eggs and bacon." Bobby turned and headed back to the kitchen, mumbling more as he disappeared from view. "No more dumping food!" He called out a few seconds later.

Jack started laughing and looked at Craig.

The boy felt as if a weight had lifted off of his shoulders, at least for the moment. He grinned at Jack. "Thanks." He muttered.

"No problem." Jack spoke quietly.


	6. Chapter 6

Still do not own, still no profit from this fiction :)

* * *

**Chapter 6: Instinct**

Craig dreaded going to the doctor, but the tense ride in the car was enough to take his mind off of the impending examination that was to come, at least for the moment. Bobby kept glancing over at him and shaking his head. He hadn't said a whole lot to him since he'd found the breakfast he'd slaved over resting in the bottom of the trash can. The silent treatment was almost more than the boy could take. He didn't like Bobby not talking to him. He'd done it once before, for almost twenty four hours straight, and Craig had thought for sure he hated him. "Bobby, I'm sorry about the breakfast." He finally worked up enough nerve to speak.

Bobby glanced over at him again. "I told you about dumping food." He commented in a quiet voice.

"But I did eat." Craig reminded. "Besides, Jack told me to." He added for good measure. "I'm supposed to do what I'm told." He knew his voice sounded weak, but he didn't care.

"You're supposed to do what the fuck I tell you to." Bobby's voice was a bit stronger than it had been."I wanted you to have a good breakfast before you went to the doctor."

"I did. The cereal was very nutritious and it was actually edible." Craig held his breath, waiting for Bobby to explode. He hadn't meant the word to come out the way they did.

Bobby opened his mouth to say something, but he started laughing instead."You are starting sound too much like Cracker Jack. You'd best watch it." He looked at the boy again. "You just don't forget who the hell you gotta worry about if you get your ass into real trouble."

Craig kept his gaze on his brother, not able to tell if the man was really pissed off. "Bobby, am I in trouble for not eating what you cooked?" He asked quietly.

Bobby looked surprised by the question. "No! No, man, you ain't in real trouble." He spoke the words in a normal tone, "You ate." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm gonna get Jackie back for his role in the food dumping shit, but hell, no one's in trouble." He looked concerned. "You really thought you was in trouble?" He asked.

Craig turned and looked out ahead of the car. "I just wasn't sure." He muttered.

"Craig, I thought I'd make you a decent breakfast. Like Jack said, I don't cook for a reason. I should have just given you the cereal." Bobby shook his head. "If you had told me when I came back down that you couldn't eat it I would have given you the cereal anyway." He admitted. "I could see what it looked like."

Craig looked back at Bobby. "Well then why did you give it to me to start with?" He was feeling more confused now.

"I don't know. Maybe I was testing you to see what you would do?" He looked at the boy. "If you had eaten that shit, I probably would have been more worried about you." He let a grin spread across his face. "Hell, I'm just gonna have to figure out how to get Jack back now."

Craig let his self relax a little. "Bobby?" He asked after a few moments.

"Yeah," Bobby glanced at him, but then returned his attention to the street.

"Is the doctor going to want to give me one of those 'examinations'?" Craig asked slowly. Now that he was sure his situation with Bobby was okay, he was starting to worry about the appointment they were driving to.

Bobby came to a stop at a traffic light. "If he does, then he does. Don't worry about it, I'll be right there. He's a doctor, and he's not going to touch you in any way that is going to hurt you." He turned and looked at the boy. He didn't look or sound surprised by the question. "You gotta be checked out kid."

"I know; I just don't want any one…" Craig drew in a deep breath.

"I know you don't. But the doctor can't tell if you're okay unless he checks everything. You don't want to end up getting sick because something was missed, do you?" Bobby remained calm, using his quiet, big brother voice, the one that seemed to calm the boy when he was stressed.

Craig shook his head. "No."

"Well then relax. It's gonna be okay." Bobby waited for the light to turn green before making a left hand turn.

They had to wait twenty minutes to get in to see the doctor. The visit was routine, but the teen knew the exam he was dreading was coming when the doctor put on his gloves. He looked at Bobby and the man seemed to be able to see the fear behind his eyes. Bobby nodded his head, letting him know that it was going to be okay. The doctor knew that Craig was anxious and assured him he would make it as quick as possible, and he did. Craig was thankful for that. The doctor talked about healing still taking place and to continue using the cream. He said he didn't want him going back to school quite yet, but that he would write a release for him to go back after the holiday break.

From the doctor's office Bobby drove to the school. Craig wasn't looking forward to going there either, though he hadn't really had a chance to think about it before, with the breakfast thing that was going on and then the doctor's visit. He'd never been one of the most popular kids in his class. He had friends that he hung out with at school, but he was quiet, and he wasn't the greatest student. If he did see the few friends he did have they would want to ask questions about what had happened to his mother, and where he had been. He was sure the school halls were filled with stories about how the Mercer house had been shot up. More than likely there would be stories about his brothers that were being passed along, and all though they may hold some truth, none of them would be accurate. He didn't want to go in and have people looking at him as if he were a freak. He already felt like one, having people stare at him would only make it worse.

Craig had his gaze locked on the building as Bobby parked the car. After a few moments of silence Bobby reached over and patted him on his arm. "Hey, you okay?" He asked the question quietly.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Craig looked at Bobby. "Can't I wait here?"

Bobby gave him one of his exaggerated confused stares. "What, you don't want to go in and see all your little school buddies?' He cried out. "Come on; get your ass out of the car." He gave Craig's arm a light smack, and then opened his door. "Come on, move it!" He called out when Craig didn't move.

Craig opened his door and got out of the car. "I don't see why I have to go in." He muttered with frustration. He may have sounded as if he had a little attitude, but he truly didn't think he could handle people looking at him.

"Hey, just cause you got away with playing along with Jackie this morning don't think you can start having an attitude with me little boy." Bobby walked around the car and stood in front of him. "What is your problem?"

Craig started to tell his brother what he was feeling, but then realized how stupid it sounded. "Nothing," He shook his head, trying to hide the tension in his voice. He glanced over at the school.

"Good. Come on." Bobby walked ahead of him towards the main entrance.

Bobby spoke to the Mrs. Childers, who had worked at the school for years. She remembered Bobby in fact, and gave him a cautious look when they first walked into the administrative office. Bobby explained to her in the most business-like voice he could come up with why he was there and who it was he needed to see. He handed the older woman the Doctor's papers and turned and looked at Craig who was standing next to him. "He can go get his books, can't he?" He looked back at Mrs. Childers.

"Of course he can." Mrs. Childers looked at Craig. "I'm very sorry to hear about your mother Craig." She spoke in a kind voice, and gave him a small smile.

"Thank you." Craig muttered.

"You go and get your books from your locker, and bring them back here. I'll call Mr. Jordan and I'm sure he'll be here by the time you get back." Mrs. Childers smiled a little wider before looking at Bobby. "You can have a seat over there." She pointed to a chair next to the wall, but didn't smile at the man and her voice came out tight.

Bobby smiled at her despite her cold stare and walked over to the chair. "Move it Craig, we need to get home." He sat down and kicked his feet straight out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles as he raised his hands to the back of his head, clasping them together. He looked at Mrs. Childers again and gave her a wide smile and sighed heavily. "Just like old times, huh?"

Craig walked out of the office quickly. He didn't want to hear what Bobby was about to say next. He could hear that tone in his voice, and was sure the man would say something to Mrs. Childers that would embarrass him.

He checked the clock in the main hall before heading up to the second floor, where his locker was located. He had about ten minutes before the classes changed and he didn't want to be out in the halls when they started to fill up. He made it to his locker quickly and had to stop and think about the combination to his lock, and it took him three tries before he got the correct number in.

He grabbed his books and stacked them up on the floor in front of his locker, trying to arrange them in the stack with the largest books on the bottom so they would be easier to carry. He could have kicked himself right then for not thinking to grab his backpack, but then he couldn't' remember where his backpack was, or the last time he'd seen it. He also had workbooks and two notebooks that he had to work into the mix, but he managed, and was just about to close the locker and pick up the stack when he heard a voice behind him.

Mr. Jordan was standing behind him. "Hello Craig." He repeated the words that Craig had missed the first time.

"Sorry. Hi, Mr. Jordan," Craig spoke without bending down to pick up his books.

Mr. Jordan looked like a reject from the nineteen seventies. He was looking at the boy over his thick plastic eye glass frames that had been taped up at in the center where they rested on his nose. The man reached up with his right hand and nudged the glasses up slightly, only to have them slide right back down. The thick bushy mustache underlining his nose matched the graying sideburns that outlined his chubby face and emptied onto a thinning hair line. His light blue suit jacket and matching polyester pants worn with a bright blue and red printed shirt didn't help his image in the least. "Would you like some help?" The man pointed to the stack of books on the floor.

"I think I can get them." Craig spoke quietly. He leaned over and picked up the books.

"We are both heading to the office, let me help." Mr. Jordan reached out and took part of the load from Craig. "How are you doing Craig? Are you doing okay?" His soft spoken voice seemed to hold genuine concern, and Craig felt a little guilty making fun of the man in his mind.

"I'm fine." Craig walked beside the man.

"I was very sorry to hear about your mother. We all thought very highly of Mrs. Mercer." The sympathy seemed to twist around each word as Mr. Jordan spoke.

Craig hated it. He hated the sympathy, and he hated the tone of voice the man was using with him, as if he were a five year old. "Thank you Mr. Jordan." He forced his own voice to come out strong.

"So, you are going to be living with one of your brothers?" Mr. Jordan asked as they made their way down the stair steps.

"Yeah, Bobby," Craig answered.

"And how is that going for you?" Mr. Jordan pushed.

"Great," Craig muttered.

"Everything is okay at home? There haven't been any problems?" Mr. Jordan spoke slowly.

"Well there was that morning when the house was shot to hell." Craig couldn't hold in his sarcasm. He knew Mr. Jordan had heard all about the shooting at the Mercer house. The entire neighborhood had to have heard about it within hours of it happening.

Mr. Jordan stopped at the bottom of the steps. "Mr. Mercer, I know you are not attending classes right now, but please remember you are in a school building and you are talking to your councilor. I do not appreciate the tone of voice or the use of foul language." He kept his voice quiet and slow. "Yes, I did hear about the shooting at the house and I am very sorry about that. I was just asking if everything was okay, between you and your brothers."

Craig swallowed back another remark that would probably get him into trouble. "I'm sorry sir; it's been a tense few weeks." He muttered. "Everything is fine with my brothers." He couldn't help but feel he was lying when he said that. He wasn't sure if everything was fine with his brothers. He wanted it to be, and they all kept telling him it was, but he still had a feeling inside of him that it wasn't and every time he thought he'd gotten rid of that feeling it seemed to come back stronger than before.

"Well good, I'm glad everything is going well." Mr. Jordan spoke calmly. "You know if you need to talk or if there is anything at all that you might need, you only have to call. I'll do all I can to help you though this. That is my job you know." He reached out with his free hand to rest it on Craig's shoulder.

The boy pulled back startled. He didn't want anyone touching him, and Mr. Jordan may have been his councilor, but he barely knew the man. It wasn't as if he'd talked to him all that much. He'd only been in his office twice, to discuss some of his classes and what he needed to do to be certain of passing. "Thanks, but like I said, I'm fine." Craig felt his voice tremble as he spoke, but he couldn't stop it. He turned and walked quickly ahead of Mr. Jordan to the office at the other end of the hall.

When they reached the office, Bobby was no longer sitting in the chair, he was back at the counter talking with Mrs. Childers, and the woman was actually laughing at whatever he'd been saying to her. Craig stood close to Bobby, making sure to keep his brother between him and Mr. Jordan. He knew the man's action had been harmless, and innocent. It wasn't as if he knew what had happened to him. But he still felt the fear welling up inside of him. He hadn't expected to have the sheer terror penetrate his body right down to every last nerve, because of one man placing his hand on his shoulder. He knew it wasn't normal, but he couldn't fight it down. As he stood next to Bobby it seemed parts of his body started to hurt that hadn't been hurting for days now. His little toe started to throb and his stomach and back started to ache. He leaned closer to Bobby, resting his head against the sleeve of his leather coat.

Bobby glanced down at him. "You okay?" He asked once he noticed the look on the boy's face.

Craig nodded his head without looking up at Bobby. "Can I take my books to the car?" He asked weakly.

Bobby shook his head. "We're about to leave, you can wait for me." He returned his attention to the councilor standing in front of him.

Mr. Jordan handed Bobby a several sheets of paper that had been printed off of a computer. "These are lessons he will need to make up." The man still spoke in that quiet, reserved sounding voice. He looked at Craig again and reached out to pat him on the shoulder again. "I hope you are feeling better Craig."

Craig pulled away from the man's hand before it reached him. To his surprise, Bobby's hand reached up and grasped the man's wrist in a swift motion. "He don't like being touched Mr. Jordan." His voice sounded as if it were holding a threat. "Please don't touch him." He let go of Mr. Jordan's wrist and slid his arm around Craig.

Craig felt himself lean further into Bobby, avoiding looking up to either man's face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize…" Mr. Jordan still spoke calmly, and to Craig it sounded as if it were an act. He was sure it wasn't. This was Mr. Jordan, his councilor, and he was sure he was over reacting, but he couldn't shake the black cloud that was forming around him. That fear that he'd been struggling with, and he'd thought he was getting over, was rushing back into his gut.

Bobby nodded his head. "I understand, it's not your fault. He's still working through some things." Bobby quickly said goodbye, and took part of Craig's books, letting the boy carry what was in his arms, and they walked out of the office.

Bobby didn't say anything for the entire walk to the car. Once they were in the car however, he turned and handed Craig his books. "What the fuck was that?" He asked.

Craig didn't look at his brother. "I don't know. I'm sorry." He muttered.

"Don't give me that bullshit Craig. You acted like you were terrified of that man." Bobby pushed. "Now what the fuck was that about?"

"I don't know." Craig finally looked at Bobby. "He met me at my locker, and he carried some of my books. He went to touch me, and I don't know, I just…" He felt tears trying to work their way out. He hadn't cried like a small child for no reason in days. He'd been doing well, he knew he had, but now it was all rushing back, and it was all because one person tried to touch his shoulder. He knew it sounded stupid, and he didn't want to tell Bobby, because it seemed no matter what anyone did, he was still feeling the same fears, deep inside.

Bobby reached out to rest his hand on Craig's shoulder and Craig flinched. "Woe, you scared of me?" Bobby pulled his hand back.

"No." Craig shook his head, but the tears were starting to fall. "I'm sorry."

Bobby started the car. "You sit back and relax. We'll be home in five minutes." He pulled the car out of the lot and started driving a little faster than he should have.

Craig started wiping at the tears falling down his cheeks. He felt stupid, but he still felt the fear inside and it wasn't losing its intensity, it seemed to be growing. "Bobby I'm sorry." He spoke quietly.

"Just calm down, we'll get you home and you'll be fine." Bobby spoke with some confidence to his voice. "That man shouldn't have put his hands on you. It's not your fault, okay?"

Craig drew in a deep breath. "I'm sorry." He repeated.

"Craig stop saying that, it's not your fault." Bobby shook his head. "You don't want no one touching you, that's normal, and that's okay. You don't have to let people touch you, no matter how harmless they might seem. If you don't want to be touched, that's your call, and no one else's. I don't care who it is, you follow your instincts. Do you understand me?" The man spoke quietly. "Now calm down. We're almost home."

Craig watched the street move past them, and fought down the panic that had settled into his gut and was trying to rush out. He wanted to get home and back inside the walls of the house where he would be safe. He would feel safe there, he was sure of it. His brothers would keep him safe. Bobby had stopped Mr. Jordan from reaching for him, and he knew that Bobby wouldn't let anyone hurt him. He tried to reason the fear away but it wasn't working. He couldn't let his fears control him like that, he knew that. It was getting old, and he was getting tired of it. If he was getting tired of it he was sure his brothers had to be getting tired of it, no matter what they said.

* * *

Bradley Jordan sat down at the desk in his small office and drew in a deep breath. He pulled a slip of paper out of the breast pocket of his shirt to looked at the phone number printed on it. He shook his head slowly, picked up his phone and started dialing the numbers.

Three rings before the line picked up. "Jordan." The raspy voice spoke on the other end.

"Yeah, you wanted me to call if he came in." Jordan spoke quickly, with a slight tremble to his voice.

"He's there?" The voice sounded hopeful.

"No, he came in and got his books." The school councilor shook his head, though the man on the other end of phone couldn't see that. "He's not going to be coming back until after the New Year."

"Well a hell of a lot of good that does me right now, you idiot," The voice spoke with cynicism. "I need to know when he's there."

"You only told me to call if he came in. You did not specify…" Bradley Jordan spoke slowly and quietly, hesitating before trying to change the course of the conversation. "Now, about that picture..." He reached up with his free hand and nudged his glasses up, but they slid right back down.

"No fucking way. You keep me informed, and this picture won't harm you in any way." There was a moment of silence on the line before the man on the other end hung up.

Bradley Jordan held the phone to his ear for a few more seconds before slowly lowering it to rest in its cradle. His hand was shaking as he pulled it up to wipe away the sweat that was forming on his forehead and poke at his glasses again. Damn, he really had a problem.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for the reviews, and thanks for reading! As always, any thoughts are welcome, I love getting advice, so keep it coming!

Legal statement still counts for this one...

* * *

**Chapter 7: Promises Kept**

Bobby walked ahead of Craig through the back door of the house, both of them carrying an armful of books. He closed the door with his foot before he led Craig into the dining room and set his armload of books onto the table. "Sit yourself down here until I come back." He looked at the boy, who had been quiet the last few blocks from the school. He took the books from Craigs arms and put them on the table as well.

Craig relinquished his books to his older brother without saying a word and sat down, just as he'd been told, letting himself slide down the back of the chair as if he were trying to disappear from view.

Jack was sitting on the couch in the living room, Angel had pulled a chair over to the coffee table, and the two of them appeared to be playing a game of checkers. Jack looked up when Bobby walked into the room, he opened his mouth, ready to say something, but stopped. He studied Bobby's face. "What's wrong?" He asked quietly.

Angel turned and looked. "Hey, how did the doctor's visit go?" He didn't pick up on the expression his older brother's face as quickly as Jack.

Bobby shook his head. "You guys keep your eye on him. Don't let him get up from the table. I gotta make a phone call." He spoke quietly.

"What's happened Bobby?" Jack asked, keeping his voice quiet.

Bobby looked at Jack. "You remember when we went to that street carnival, when you was about twelve?" He asked the question slowly. He knew Jack would know what he was talking about. It had been a nasty night as far as Jack was concerned, and it had been a rough night on his three older brothers as well. Jack had gotten seperated from his brothers, and run across a crowd of no good punks who thought making fun of a little kid was fun. Jack had reacted much the same way as Craig had with Mr. Jordan, which had made the situation worse, forcing his brothers to beat the shit out the ass holes once they stumbled onto the situation.

Jack drew in a deep breath, "Yeah, I remember."

Angel looked at Jack, then back up at Bobby, "Did he freak out about something?" He asked quietly, turning enough to look into the dining room at Craig, who was staring at his school books in front of him, his arms wrapped around his stomach.

"Yeah, kind of," Bobby nodded his head. "His school councilor reached out to touch him and from the look on his face I thought he was gonna take off." He drew in a deep breath. "I just wanna call Jerry and find out about the psychologist Ma took Craig to when he was little. If anyone knows anything about that doctor and how we can get a hold of them, it's Jerry."He kept his voice as quiet as he could. He didn't want Craig to hear what he was saying. He wasn't sure what else to do for the kid. He knew from past experience with Jack that some things needed other people to fix them. He was thinking Craig was going to need someone else to help him feel better.

Jack shook his head slowly. "Mom stopped taking him to see any one because it didn't do any good." He spoke up. "He didn't want to go, and if you force him he'll just close himself off Bobby. He's good at that, you said so yourself."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do? He got the same look on his face when I tried to put my hand on him in the car. I'm no fucking doctor; I don't know what the hell I'm doing here." Bobby admitted, and his brothers had to know how difficult that was for him.

"What about this guy that you said tried to touch him, I mean, did he act like he was no good?" Angel's voice held concern. "Is he someone that Craig should feel threatened by?"

Bobby felt the scowl cross his face. "No, hell, he looks like a grandpa version of some disco freak from the seventies." He shook his head and looked into the dining room at Craig. "The kid was ready to run, I could feel it. He got real close to me, and I could feel the tension all over him. It scared him to death."

"You just let that guy reach out and touch him?" Jack's voice held a little irritation. "You know he's gonna be like that for a while Bobby. Hell, I still have my moments. You let him touch him?" His expression was one of frustration.

"No, I did not let him touch him. I stopped him. But he'd met up with Craig in the hall when I wasn't around." Bobby looked down at Jack. "I'm no fucking idiot, okay?"

Jack looked back through the room to Craig. "Let me talk to him." His mouth formed a tight line across his face. "I need to talk to him."

Bobby looked at Angel with a questioning expression.

"Hell, it can't hurt. Besides, I'd like to see you try to stop him right now. I think Cracker Jack here could whoop your ass at this moment, even with that tube hanging out of him." Angel chuckled quietly.

Bobby looked down at Jack. "You're sure you're up to talking to him? You really think you can deal with all the shit talking about it brings back up for you?" He asked. "You had me up half the night last night because you were having problems dealing the memories his shit brought back on you."He wasn't trying to be hard with Jack, but he had spent most of the day and night before talking about how hard it was for him to deal with what had happened to Craig. He wanted to help, but it seemed to bring back a lot of his own memories and fears because he knew what it was like. He'd also told Bobby he needed to lighten up some of his hold on Craig, to let him have some breathing room so that he had a chance to deal with things his own way on a certain level. While Bobby hadn't really understood where Jack was coming from, he knew Jack had lived through a similar experience and should by all rights know what would help the boy, so he'd tried Jack's idea. He thought it had been a good idea, until now.

The expression on Jack's face softened and he looked up at Bobby. "I need to talk to him. I need to at least try." He barely got the words out.

Bobby drew in a deep breath and let the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. "Okay, it's your call Tinkerbelle. You wanna do it now or do you wanna wait a little while? You can give both of you a chance to calm down some?" He could see the tension building inside of Jack. "I mean, you're gonna be sitting with him, helping him learn his ABC's. You're gonna have all the time in the world to have your talk." He was half hoping Jack would back down. It was hard for Jack to talk about what had happened to him when he was little with anyone. He'd never told Bobby all of it, the man knew that. But he also knew that Evelyn had helped Jack in ways that only a mother could, and he wished to God that she was there right now to help Craig the way she had always done in the past. Hell, he wished she was there to help him deal with the whole mess himself.

"No, I don't want to wait. You think he should have to wait?" Jack looked back into the dining room. "Where did he go?" He spoke quickly, looking alarmed.

Bobby turned and looked at the empty dining room chair that Craig had been sitting in, and moved through the room, towards the kitchen at as close to a run as he could get in the house. When he reached the kitchen he found the back door standing open, "Son of a bitch!" He yelled as Angel came into the room from the other doorway.

"I'll go look upstairs, he might have gone up there." Angel turned and went back the way he came.

Bobby stepped out the door and looked up and down the street. He couldn't believe the little shit had actually done it again. He'd taken off after he'd promised he wouldn't do that anymore? After all of the talking and assuring him that they would do all they could to help him; he'd gone back to running away from his problems? He was gonna kill him, he was gonna beat his ass and then glue it to a chair. He wasn't about to worry night and day about the kid running off as soon as things got tough. He wouldn't have it.

Angel came out the back door. "He's not in there man." He shook his head once his feet hit the snow at the bottom of the steps.

"Shit." Bobby spoke loudly. "He can't be far. I'm gonna go drive around and look for him." He reached into his pocket for his keys, but just as he found them and pulled them out, Craig emerged from the garage carrying a box in his hands. The boy stopped and looked at him, as if he knew he was in trouble. Bobby felt his blood boil for a moment, but then relaxed slightly. Craig was right there in front of him, he didn't have to worry about where he was, just why the hell he'd wandered off.

The boy looked as if he was still battling tears. His eyes were red, and he looked cold. "What the fuck are you doing out here?" Bobby knew he sounded angry, but he was truly more relieved than pissed. He stepped over to the boy and took a hold of his arm, okay, he had to force himself to ease up on his grasp a bit, but he was keeping control, he really was.

"I'm sorry." Craig muttered, not looking up at him.

"You get your ass back in the fucking house." Bobby tried to separate his teeth as he spoke, but they were grinding harder than he realized. He had to use a lot of control not to give the boy a hard jerk. He managed to tug him into walking next to him.

"Child what the hell is wrong with you? We were ready to start searching for your ass." Angel called from the bottom of the steps. He waited until Bobby had Craig almost to him before turning and pulling the door open, holding it for his brothers.

Bobby pulled Craig into the dining room and turned him to face him. He grabbed the box to set it on the table and looked into in for the first time. Sketchpads stared back at him. Different sizes, different colored paper and covers. He sat the box on the table and looked at the boy. "You wanna tell me what the hell you thought you were doing walking out of this house by your god damned self and scaring the shit out of us?" He nearly yelled the words.

Craig started crying. Shit. He was back to crying now. Bobby wanted to wrap his arms around him and make his hurting stop, but he'd found that didn't seem to work with the kid, at least not by its self. It had worked with Jack; that was why this was so fucking hard. Nothing that worked with Jack worked with Craig. Nothing he'd done for Jack, letting him talk to him until all hours of the night, sleeping in his room with him, or sticking close to him when they went anywhere, seemed to work with this kid. He was about at his wits end with him.

Craig opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but no sound came out. He closed it again and looked down at the floor. Angel had followed them in, and was standing in the kitchen doorway. "You gonna answer the question?" He stepped over and reached up to rested a hand on the back of Craig's head, and to Bobby's relief the boy didn't flinch or try to pull away from the touch.

"That get's you an ass beating; you know that, don't you?" Bobby asked the question quietly.

Craig looked as if he'd already had a good ass beating, by the expression on his face. "I'm sorry." He muttered through the tears, "I just wanted to get this." He looked at the box.

"Why didn't you speak up and ask one of us to go with?" Angel asked the question calmly. "Better yet, why didn't you ask one of us to go get it for you? We would have you know."

Craig looked up at Bobby. "I didn't think…" He started to say.

"Get upstairs, to your room. I'll be there in a few minutes." Bobby managed to keep his voice steady.

Craig stared at him as if he couldn't believe he was actually going to get a whipping. Bobby had warned him. He couldn't believe the kid would just get up and walk out of the house after everything that had happened to their family in the past few weeks. He knew he was on restriction. He had told him to stay in the chair. The man was battling the urge to let the punishment go because of that look on the boy's face, but the last time he'd done that the kid had gotten the wrong message.

"Bobby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Craig's voice trembled as he spoke.

"I told you before Craig, you're getting an ass beating when you pull this shit. I'm not letting you get away with it. I'm not letting you start it again. You do what the hell I say, and get your ass up those stairs." Bobby pointed in the direction of the living room. He really didn't want to do this. He knew the kid had been to hell and back with all the crap that had been dumped on him recently, but he had to stick to his guns and do what he'd told him he was gonna do.

Craig stared at him for a moment longer with pleading eyes. If he'd kept his gaze fixed on Bobby one more second the man probably wouldn't have been able to take it. He would have broken and let the kid off the hook. But Craig looked back down at the floor and walked through the house. Bobby watched him retreating through the living room and Jack nodded at him to confirm the boy had gone up the stairs. Bobby let out a sigh and held his hands over his face for a moment while he tried to calm himself down.

"You really gonna give him one?" Angel asked the question slowly as he walked past him to the living room and took up his abandoned seat.

Bobby let his hands drop to his side and felt the muscles in his shoulders tense up on him. "I ain't got no choice." He moved in the same direction as Angel.

"Sure you do. You know he was upset." Jack muttered, keeping his gaze on the man. "He just didn't think." He seemed to understand how the boy could be in the state of mind to wander off without thinking.

"Ma always said kids learn by promises kept." Bobby looked at Jack. "If you tell them you are going to do it, you do it. Whether you promise to punish them, or you promise to reward them. If you don't keep either of the promises, they'll never trust you to keep your word for nothin' else." Bobby spoke quietly. "I ain't got no choice." He repeated his first statement. "I love him Jack. I want him to trust me. I want him to know when I say I'm gonna keep him safe, that I will. I can't keep that promis if he don't listen to what I tell him, and if I promise to punish him for not listening, then how is he gonna trust me to keep the other?"

"Bobby it doesn't work that way." Jack shook his head. "Besides, he didn't run off. He was here, right?"

"Yeah, it does work that way, especially with him. I already messed up once and didn't deliver an ass beating like I said I would. He didn't think I would follow through on the next one, and I had to fix that. I'm not making the same mistake little brother. He's getting one for this stunt." Bobby looked from Jack to Angel, and then turned and headed for the stairs. He really didn't want to do this.

* * *

Craig sat on his bed, listening for the sound of Bobby's boots hitting the stairs. He wasn't sure why he'd gone out to the garage. He'd planned on sitting in the chair, where Bobby had told him to stay. But while he was sitting there by his self he'd thought about the reason he felt so terrified of Mr. Jordan touching him. He was confused about it. He wasn't sure if it was the tone of his voice, or the look in his eye when he'd reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. He didn't know. He only knew that the fear was as intense as it had been when he was little and his father was the one reaching for him. While he was thinking about that, it occurred to him that it wasn't the same kind of fear that he'd been fighting off since his time with Victor Sweet, it was the fear from long before, the fear of his father. The man was still out there somewhere, and even though he hadn't seen him, he had a feeling he was close by.

His mind had reasoned that if he had his old pictures, the sketches he'd done when he was younger, that maybe he could look through those and figure it out. Maybe he would be able to make sense of it. Before he even realized it he was in the garage climbing into the loft that was on one side, and he was searching for that box that held his first pictures. He didn't remember getting up and walking out. He didn't remember walking through the cold air to the garage. He only remembered climbing into the loft, his mind was on auto pilot and he didn't seem to be able to control what he was doing. He'd actually forgotten that Evelyn had stored that box in the garage rather than in the attic with his other books, so for him to go right to it was surprising to him. The memories in that box were nothing more than hazy feelings to him now. He'd let the actually memories go long ago; he'd had to in order to feel normal. The past few weeks had brought back all the old fears, but the memories weren't there, and he couldn't deal with that fear if he didn't have the memories. It scared the hell out of him to think about it, but he did want to deal with it. He didn't want to be a trembling, scared little kid for the rest of his life.

Bobby appeared at the head of the stairs, his movement brought the boy back out of his thoughts. Craig stood quickly. He swallowed hard. He had to make Bobby understand that he really hadn't meant to walk out of the house, though he knew it was going to be nearly impossible to make the man believe him.

Bobby shut the door slowly, and looked calm.

"Bobby, I'm sorry." Craig spoke the words weakly. "I swear I really didn't mean to this time." He felt the tears trying to choke up his words.

Bobby shook his head. "No bullshitting, remember?" He walked over and sat down on the bed. "Come on, let's get it over with."

Craig looked down at the man. "I don't remember getting up." He felt his lungs clenching at his throat. "I don't remember going outside."

Bobby's eyes narrowed and he drew in a couple of deep breaths, as if he were thinking. "Kid, I believe you. But you still got up. You walked out of this fucking house, and I'm not gonna let it go. Now get over here." He didn't sound pissed off any more.

Bobby didn't make him pull down his jeans. He held him down and gave him twenty swats, and though it stung, it was nowhere near as bad as the last one he'd received from the man. Despite that, Craig bawled like a baby. He couldn't stop himself. When Bobby was done, he pulled him up onto his lap and let him rest his head on his shoulder and cry until he was empty of any more tears.

"Now, you want to tell me why you went out to the garage?" Bobby asked after a long while.

"I needed my sketch pads." Craig muttered.

"What did you need them for?" Bobby asked.

"So I could remember." Craig spoke weakly.

"Remember what?" Bobby sounded confused.

"Why I'm afraid." Craig didn't look up at the man.

"Well, the next time you want something from the garage you come and get one of your brothers. From now on, you aren't allowed in the garage, or in the attic, or in the basement. That gives you less places to roam off to without us knowing." Bobby sat the boy up so that he could look at him. "You tell me now; do you need to sleep in Ma's bed tonight?"

Craig drew in a shaky breath. "I don't know." He answered honestly.

"Well, I guess I'll ask you again when it's time to go to bed then." Bobby reached up and rubbed the boy gently on the back. Slow, calming circles, the way Evelyn would rub his back when he was younger and was upset. It had always calmed him down. "You have to remember something Craig; you disappearing on us like that scared the shit out of us. I love you kid, we all do, and we can't handle anything happening to you. You remember that, okay?"

Craig looked at Bobby. "I'm sorry." He muttered.

"I know. I'm sorry too; I should have been keeping a better eye on you. Let's get back downstairs and figure out what we're gonna have for lunch." Bobby let the boy stand, and then stood with him. "Maybe you can talk Jack into playing a game of checkers while Angel does some cooking." He smiled at the boy as he stood and put an arm around him.

Craig let the safety of his brother's arm envelope him for the moment. He thought that maybe he didn't need the sketchpads after all. Maybe it was best if he didn't actually have the memories that were hidden in them. His brothers would keep him safe. They wouldn't let his father come back to do anything to him. He was sure of that.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for reading, and the reviews!

Legal stuff still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 8: A Game of Checkers**

Bobby walked Craig into the living room and made Angel give up his chair to the boy. He looked at Jack. "We're gonna go see if we can figure out what to have for lunch. Why don't the two of you play a game?" He motioned to the board full of checkers.

Angel and Bobby went to the kitchen to argue about what they should have for lunch, while Jack started setting up the checker board. The man looked at Craig. "You want to be black or red?" The boy wasn't used to seeing the game out. He'd played checkers with his mother when he was younger, but he'd never seen any of his brothers play the game before. He'd always thought they were too cool to lower themselves to playing a kid's game.

Craig shrugged his shoulders, not really wanting to play the game at that moment, but preferring doing so in place of any of his brothers trying to talk to him, and he was sure that was going to be coming next. It seemed to follow the pattern. His butt was sore from the spanking that Bobby dished out, and that's usually when the talking started.

"If you aren't gonna answer me, I guess you can be black." Jack arranged the pieces quickly. Jack made his first move quickly. Craig moved his pieces and one by one lost them. Both Jack and Craig remained quiet throughout the game, though it was clear to see the younger of the two wasn't putting much thought into each move. He didn't care if he won or lost, he hadn't really wanted to play to start with. What he wanted to do was sit down with the box of sketch pads and start looking through them.

Jack won the first game quickly and looked up at the boy. "You can help me set up for a second game." He started arranging the pieces. "You ever play checkers before? Because you play like shit," He muttered. "Come on, think about your moves. Make it interesting."

Craig helped to set up for another game. He didn't answer Jack's comment. Yeah, he'd played checkers before, but it wasn't as if any of his brothers had ever bothered to play with him before. It had always been his mother who played with him, and he never won when he played her either. He liked the game, but Evelyn was always better than him at it.

He should have known that Jack would take the opportunity to start up a conversation, but the man waited until they were into the second game before clearing his throat a couple of times. "Angel said you went out to the garage to get a box of your sketch pads." He didn't look up at Craig when he spoke; he kept his gaze fixed on the checker board.

Craig looked at the top of Jack's head. The man's hair was combed neatly on his head, instead of purposely spiking out in every direction with each section carefully set to look un-kept. He wasn't used to seeing Jack's hair look that neat. He didn't want to respond to Jack's comment, and he found thinking about something else, like the man's hair helped him to ignore the lead into a conversation he didn't feel like having at the moment. He wanted to forget about his day, at least for a little while; it had not been the best day in recent weeks.

Jack slowly lifted his forehead, pulling Craig into his view. "Why did you do that?" He asked.

Craig shrugged his shoulders, but didn't answer.

"You know what Bobby said about answering when someone's talking to you." Jack kept his voice quiet, and the expression on his face looked serious.

"I don't know why I wanted it." Craig lied. He knew that Jack could tell he was lying, but he didn't care. He didn't want to talk about the sketch pads in the box, or the fear that was still churning around on his insides. He didn't want to talk about his reaction to Mr. Jordan, or why it had happened.

Jack reached out and slid one of his pieces into the last row on Craig's side of the board. "King me." He muttered.

Craig frowned and did what Jack instructed before carelessly sliding one of his black checkers.

"You know, I never knew my real parents. I guess, from what my adoption papers said that I was given up when I was real little. I don't really care about that though." Jack shrugged his shoulders. "I don't remember my real mother." He sighed. "I had some good foster homes. I was in one for a long time, but for some reason they never adopted me. I don't know why. I was moved after years of being with them, and it was real scary. I guess I started some trouble in the next place on purpose. I thought they would send me back home if I did that."

Craig looked at Jack, who was staring at the checker board hard. He wasn't sure why Jack was doing this. He hadn't asked the man to talk. He had wanted to ask him questions about how he was feeling before, and about the things they had in common, but he hadn't asked him anything. Still there he was, talking, and the boy was afraid of where he was taking the conversation. He'd convinced himself he would wait until Jack was healed up and in good health before he tried to talk to him, but the truth was he wasn't sure if he was ready to ask the questions and talk about what had happened to him at that kind of level.

Jack picked up one of his red checkers and triple jumped Craig's black checkers, taking them each off of the board. "They didn't send me back though. They moved me again, and again, and each time I go angrier, and more scared, and more confused." He looked at Craig. "I was about nine, and I guess this one family had a good reputation for straightening out the trouble makers in the system, so I was placed there. You have to remember, I was only seven, and I'd caused all sorts of problems in school, and I'd started fights with other kids in the homes I'd been in, and I'd cuss the foster parents out like I was some sort of sailor." The man managed to laugh. "I was just trying to get them to take me back home, to my first foster parents. They had been great. Instead, they take me to this home where the husband stayed home all day while his wife worked. It was the start of summer vacation when I was placed with them, and that meant that I was alone with the guy all day every day, five days a week. Not that it would have mattered, the wife wasn't any better, not really."

Craig stared at Jack, meeting his gaze. "What did he do?" He asked the question quietly.

"Well, nothing at first. I mean, he had all of these guns in the house, and there was always a lot of people coming in and out of the house buying baggies full of shit. I didn't know what it was, and I'm sure if the State had known I never would have been there. I know that now, but at the time, I didn't know what the hell was going on." Jack sat back into the pillowed behind him on the couch. "It's your move." He pointed to the checkers.

Craig looked at the board, reached out and made a move without even looking to see if there would be any consequences.

Jack drew in a deep breath. "I tried my usual shit in that home, and got the crap beat out of me. I ended up in the hospital, but they said I fell off my bike. Hell, I didn't even have a bike, but no one questioned it. My arm was broken. I was scared of that guy after that. I'd never had any one beat me before, no matter how much trouble I caused. When they got me back to the house I was locked up in a closet for a couple of days. They'd toss a pack of crackers into me a couple of times a day, and maybe a can of soda." He cleared his throat. "When they let me out, good ole Nate decided to teach me who the boss in his house was. He took me to his room; he kept me there for a couple of days. He made me do things…" Tears slid down the man's cheeks. "I was seven years old and I knew what was happening to me, but I didn't understand it. After that he made me follow him around like some fucking dog." He shook his head and Craig could see the man's jaw set as his teeth started grinding together. "Needless to say, he'd broken my spirit. I didn't know how to fight him. I couldn't fight him, I was only seven. But my case worker thought the man had worked miracles on me. I was polite, and I was courteous when he came around to check on me. I learned real quick how to act like I was happy there. That went on most of the summer. I was just old enough to reason that I could wait until school started, and I'd tell someone at school what was going on. I probably wouldn't have though. I mean I was terrified of what that man could do to me. I didn't have to deal with that though."

Jack stopped talking for a long moment and leaned forward to make a move in the game. "Apparently Nate pissed off the wrong people. These guys came in and there was this loud argument, and then there was a big fight that really trashed the house. Nate's wife, Sylvia, pulled out a gun and these guys pulled out guns and there were gun shots and bullets, and in the end, Nate and Sylvia were dead. I was curled up in a ball in the corner of the room. They left me there like that. It seemed like hours before anyone found me." Jack shook his head. "I didn't talk for a long time. I mean weeks. They tried to place me in some other homes, but I wouldn't listen, I just did whatever I wanted to. I was eleven when my caseworker took my file to Evelyn and told her I was not going to be placed with any other families. "He smiled. "He handed my life over to her. He probably saved my life that day. She tried to place me in a few homes, but with my history, and the way I acted, there was no one who wanted me. So she brought me home. She said all I needed was a big brother." His smile stretched into a wide grin. "And I guess that was exactly what I needed."

Craig looked back down at the checker board. His mind was still absorbing what Jack had told him. He hadn't expected to hear so much, and feel so familiar with all of it. He wasn't sure if he felt comfortable with the knowledge. Jack had said they had a lot in common, but the boy hadn't expected it to be so close to his own life. "I was only in one foster home before Evelyn." He muttered the words quietly, making a mental note that it seemed to be the only difference in their experiences.

Jack raised his eyebrows, "Really?" He looked surprised by the words. "What was it like?" He pushed.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "I guess she couldn't have kids, so they took in foster kids, a lot of them." He didn't look up from the checker board; he kept his gaze fixed on the red and black pieces. "We all shared the same room. It was crowded and hot." He swallowed at the tension his throat felt at the thoughts of that home. "Everyone had chores to do, but the house was always a mess." He managed to suck in a deep breath. "He drank beer all day, and would get mad because of the mess and start hitting. We weren't allowed to make any noise either, he'd hit if there was any noise. And if you walked into the room at the wrong time he'd hit you." He felt his arms take hold of his stomach.

"After diner every night we had to sit on the floor against the wall and no one was allowed to move. If you moved you got hit." He wasn't sure why he was telling Jack, he hadn't talked about his other foster home with anyone else except Evelyn. "She wasn't too bad when she was home. She would always make cookies and everyone got one after dinner, but if any crumbs fell of them you got into trouble." He felt his left leg starting to itch. "One night I moved when I was supposed to sit still, and he started hitting me. I guess I fought back. I don't remember. They said I hit him and scratched him. I bit him and he hit me harder than usual. They took me to the hospital, and I didn't go back. They put me in St. Vincent's." He didn't have to explain what St. Vincent's was, all of his brothers had spent time there; he'd heard them talk about it. It was where most of the kids in the foster care system spent time between foster homes.

Jack nodded his head. "I guess that's where Mom found you?" He asked.

Craig finally looked up at Jack. "I don't remember when she started coming." He spoke weakly. "They kept me separated from the other kids most of the time, because I wouldn't talk, and if anyone tried to talk to me I'd get mad and hit at them and try to bite them. They made me see a lot of doctors."

Jack leaned a little closer to the boy. "Sounds like a true Mercer." He pointed to the checker board. "You'd better make your move."

Craig looked down at the game. He reached out with a shaking hand and made a move without really caring about the game. "Mom started coming and just sitting with me." He muttered.

Jack looked at the boy but didn't comment.

"And then one day she brought me some cake and said it was my birthday." He muttered. "I'd never had a birthday before. My mom and dad never bothered with things like birthdays or holidays. I didn't know anything about them." He knew his voice was quivering, and he wished he could stop it. He wished he could stop the words from coming, and he wished he could drive down the aching that was growing in his gut. The aching for his mother hadn't been as intense the past few days. He'd been concentrating on Bobby taking care of him, and feeling as if he were a part of the family they had now without Evelyn. He'd been doing pretty well at not letting himself yearn for a mother that he couldn't have anymore.

Craig's left hand reached for the itch on his leg, and he started to scratch at it through his jeans. "She had to tell me what a birthday was." He felt a tear slip down his left cheek. "She said that every year people got presents and cake on their birthday to celebrate them being born and being a part of their family. I knew then that no one had ever been happy that I was born."

Jack's hand reached over the top of the coffee table and took a hold of the boy's left hand, stopping him from scratching at the itch. The man didn't say a word to him though, he just held onto the hand.

Craig sniffed at the tears that were trying to build. "My mom used to shoot up three or four times a day. There were times when she would try to get cleaned up, and she'd leave my dad, but he always came back around and she'd go back to him and start using again." He couldn't look at Jack. "He would hit on her sometimes, but mostly he didn't pay much attention to her. He kept her supplied with her drugs and she was always lying on the couch either passed out or tripping. He used too, but he drank more than he used. He always smelled like whiskey and cigarettes." He felt his body shaking. "I don't remember much about my mom. But I know she tried. When she was straight she wasn't too bad. She'd get stressed about things and yell sometimes. But if I was scared, she would hug me. If I was hungry she made food. It was never a real meal, but I could get some food from her. When Dad was around it was different. I was always hungry. He wouldn't let me eat unless I'd been good." He felt a shiver run through his body. "I never seemed to be good enough." He moved his right hand to scratch at his itch.

"What was his idea of being good?" Jack reached out and grabbed Craig's right hand, preventing him from scratching.

Craig looked at Jack. "I had to keep quiet while he did what he wanted. I had to make him happy, and act like I liked it. He told me my mom could never find out about it, that she would hate me if she found out and he would have to get rid of her." He couldn't bring himself to go into more detail. "I would blank out. I would make it all disappear and I wouldn't let myself come back until it either hurt or it was over. That was the only way I could do it. He used to take me places, with other people, and I would blank out again. I didn't want to remember any of it."

Jack gave his hands a squeeze. "I used to do the same thing. I know what you're talking about." His voice was quiet.

"One night I couldn't blank out." Craig swallowed hard and dropped his gaze back down to the checker board. "He was hurting me, and I couldn't stay quiet. My mom heard me, and came to check on me." He felt his voice take on the texture and tone of a small child and mentally berated himself for letting him fall into this talk, and the state of mind that he was going into. But Jack was holding onto his hands, and it felt so much like it had when Evelyn Mercer had first held his hands and told him that it was going to be okay, that she understood, and he was finally safe. "She started screaming, but she was screaming at him, not me. She was telling him that she would make sure he never touched me again. She tried to get to me and pull me off the bed and he started hitting on her. He messed her up bad, and I couldn't do anything to help her. She really did care about me, and I didn't know that before. He pulled out the gun and…" He swallowed at the sick feeling the mental image brought to him. "I blanked out again." He spoke quickly.

"You blanked out?" Jack didn't seem to believe him. "Or you just pretended you blanked out so you wouldn't have to think about it?" His voice was quiet and held a small bit of truth.

Craig didn't look at the man. "I draw it." He confessed. "I can't think about it, but I can draw it."

Jack drew in a deep breath. "You draw all of it?" He asked.

Craig nodded his head. "I don't remember it, but I draw it." He had admitted it before and he was sure that his brothers hadn't really understood it, but he thought that Jack did now.

Jack nodded his head. "I wish I had some way to get it out like that." He muttered. "I envy you for having that." He drew in a deep breath and gave the boy's hands another squeeze. "So, you wanted the sketch pads that were in the garage for a reason?"

Craig closed his eyes. "I'm scared Jack, and I don't know why." He spoke the words weakly. "I know I don't need to be. It's not because of what happened to Mom, or with Sweet." He felt the tears increasing, "I know I felt this way before, I can't remember it, but I know I drew it."

"I still feel the same way." Jack let tears fall down his cheeks. "Not all of the time, but sometimes, when I know I shouldn't be afraid of anything that will creep back in on me too." He gave Craig's hands a tug. "Come over here so we can talk better." He urged.

"I don't want to talk." Craig shook his head and opened his eyes to look at Jack.

Jack looked amused, despite the tears falling down his face. "Kid, you're already talking." He licked his lips and then pressed them together as if he were trying to hold in a smile.

Craig realized the man was right. He'd told Jack things he'd never told anyone else. He'd talked about memories that he'd never voiced before. He stood and let Jack pull him around the end of the table, and sat down on next to the man on the side of the couch clear of the drainage tube. Jack put an arm around him. "You're dad; he's a sorry son of a bitch." Jack muttered.

Craig sniffed at some tears. "You still get scared?" He asked the question weakly, not sure if he wanted to continue with the conversation.

"Yeah, I do." Jack nodded his head.

"What do you do to make it go away?" Craig asked.

"I play my music. I talk to my brothers." Jack drew in a deep breath. "And just like you, I know I don't need to be scared, but sometimes knowing it doesn't make you feel any better. I'm sorry Craig; I can't give you an easy fix for it. I can't take away what happened to you when you were little. I can't bring Mom back, or make anything Sweet did to you vanish. But I do understand the feelings you have because of all of it. I really do. And believe it or not, so does Bobby and Jerry and Angel. They helped me through a lot of rough times. They kept me from hurting myself, when it got real intense, and they let me talk when I needed to." Jack pulled a face as he lifted his arm to rest it around Craig. "I can tell you this much, and swear it's the God's honest truth; it gets less intense with time. You'll start to go for a few hours without thinking about it, and then days, and soon, you'll realize you've gone for a long time without that fear gnawing at your insides."

Craig thought about the words. Jack wasn't telling him how to make it go away, he was telling him it never would go away, it would just get easier to live with. He wasn't sure if he could handle that. He wasn't sure he could live the rest of his life with the confusion inside of him. How does someone live like that?

"You can't run from it either kid. I tried that. After Bobby and Angel left, and Jerry moved out, hell, I felt alone. Mom was great, you know that, but my brothers, man, they were my support. They have always given me strength. I went to New York because it started getting hard to deal with some shit without having them around to help, and it all just followed me."

Craig looked at Jack, not following his words. "You left because you were trying to run away?"

"Yeah, I thought I could get far enough away that the old memories wouldn't follow me. But I was wrong. You run a lot. You gotta stop that. It won't help." Jack gave him a slight squeeze around the shoulders. "And it scares the shit out of the people who care about you. So promise me you won't do that anymore?"

Craig nodded his head. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do you dream about it?"

"Every night," Jack nodded his head.

"Me too," Craig admitted.

Both were quiet for a long moment. Craig spoke without thinking about what he was saying. "It doesn't feel like Christmas."

Jack sighed. "No, it doesn't." He agreed and then smiled. "You never had a Christmas before you came here?" He asked, apparently remembering what Craig had said about never having a birthday.

Craig shook his head. "I didn't know what Christmas was. Or Thanksgiving," He let some more tears slip out.

Jack nodded his head, "Easter?" He asked.

Craig shook his head.

"Had you ever been to school?" Jack asked slowly.

Craig shook his head again. "No, my Mom was too stoned and my Dad, well…." He stopped himself.

They were quiet for a few more moments. "Bobby wasn't going to get a tree this year because the house is kind of crowded with my bed in the dining room, and all my shit down here." Jack commented. "Are you okay with that?"

The question took Craig by surprise. Bobby hadn't asked him what he thought of not getting a tree; the decision had just been made and announced, as if it were normal. "I'm okay with it." He answered, staring down at the checker board. No, really he wasn't okay with it. He was missing the feelings that seemed to fill the house when there was a tree in the living room. He missed the smell of gingerbread baking in the oven. He was missing watching his mother so excited about the Christmas decorations, and the lights. He wanted it all back. He wanted a tree, and he wanted to open the door and hear the Christmas carolers singing Silent Night in their front yard. He wanted to feel good, like he used to, and he wanted to feel as if his mother were there, even though she wasn't. He felt Jack look at him, and thought he man was going to say something for a moment, but there was only silence.


	9. Chapter 9

Legal stuff still counts

* * *

**Chapter 9: King Me**

Craig was surprised how long it took Angel and Bobby to decide on lunch and then to make it. He was alone with Jack for nearly an hour, and they continued to talk, leaving the checker game to sit half finished. It seemed the longer they talked, the less Craig felt like crying, though a few tears slipped out from time to time. They talked about Evelyn, and they rehashed the week leading up to Jack being shot, and shared how they each felt about everything that had happened durring that time. They talked about the morning that Jack had been shot. Craig told Jack how he thought he was dead, and how he had thought his other brothers had died that morning. Jack told him, again, he was sorry that he hadn't been able to protect him the way he needed protecting. "I guess that's Bobby's specialty." Jack chuckled quietly. "He's always been good at it."

Craig asked Jack what it had felt like to be shot, and the man glanced down at the drainage tube running out of him. "It hurt." He stated the obvious.

Craig looked up at him. "I'm sorry you got shot." He spoke carefully. "If I hadn't been out there, maybe you wouldn't have…"

"Stop it." Jack held a hand up, "Don't you dare tell me you blame yourself for me taking a bullet." He spoke with a stern tone, something that was unusual for the normally soft spoken man. "It was not your fault. I was stupid enough to go running after the ass hole with the snowball." He sounded pissed. "I should have known better."

"How could you have known?" Craig didn't understand.

"Angel and Bobby used to tell me stories all of the time, about how gangs would go after each other, and do shit like that to lure people out of the house and make them open targets." Jack glanced down at the boy and then looked straight ahead, as if he were concentrating hard. "How many people are going to keep blaming themselves? I mean, I blame myself for not keeping you safe the way Bobby would have. You blame yourself, and that don't make any fucking sense at all. Bobby blames himself because he says he should never have sent you to school that day, and he couldn't get to either of us in time to stop any of it. Angel thinks he's to blame because he was so caught up in what was going on with Jerry that morning that he didn't even realize we had both walked out of the house. Jerry blames himself because he thinks he brought it all down on the whole family because of his business." He looked back down at Craig. "Why don't we all start blaming the man who was responsible for all of it right from the start? Victor Sweet. Hell, he'd dead now, so I guess he got what was coming to him."

Craig stared up at Jack for a long moment. He didn't know Bobby blamed himself. He didn't know any of his brothers had been feeling that way. "You still didn't tell me what it felt like to get shot." He muttered, wanting to change the subject, not feeling comfortable with knowing his brothers had all blamed themselves.

Jack eyed him for a long moment. "You said once that you had been shot." He pointed out. "That was the night your mom died, right?" He was remembering the 'talk' Bobby had forced him to have, that was the only time Craig had mentioned being shot that he could remember.

Craig nodded his head. "Yeah," He muttered.

"So how did it feel when you got shot?" Jack asked.

"I don't remember." Craig kept his gaze on Jack, "But it probably hurt." He gave Jack an irritated stare.

Jack laughed quietly. "It felt like a hot poker burning through my lung." He finally spoke quietly, giving into the boy's curiosity. "And after all those years of being afraid of it, it was worse than anything I could have ever imagined, and at the same time it was nowhere near as bad as I thought."

Craig reached up with one hand and wiped at the tears still on his cheeks. "That doesn't make sense." He muttered.

"Yeah, I know. But it's the truth." Jack followed the boy's lead and wiped away the tears on his own face. "You really don't remember what it felt like to be shot?" He turned back to the boy.

Craig shook his head. "I can tell you what it feels like to have a toe cut off." He pulled his left leg up and let his foot rest on the table.

Jack looked at the shoe. "Show me."

"What?" Craig asked.

"Take off your shoe and show me. I showed you my tube; you show me your toe." Jack grinned at the boy. "I showed you mine, you show me yours."

"Don't let Bobby hear you say that." Craig kept his voice quiet as he pulled his foot up to rest on his right knee. He slid the shoe off without untying it and pulled off his sock. The area was still bandaged. He glanced at Jack before easing the tape away and pealing the bandage back to reveal the stump of his toe.

Jack gave the boy a face. "Don't be thinking like Bobby or I'll have to bust you a good one." He threatened before reaching out and tapping at the remains of the little toe with his finger. "That's healed up pretty good. Why do you still have it covered?"

"It's easier to walk that way." Craig kept his gaze on his foot, not looking up at his brother.

"Man I bet that hurt when he cut it off." Jack stared at the foot for a long moment.

"It didn't hurt. It just came off, and I could feel it separate from the rest of the toe, it felt like a lot of pressure, real quick, and then it was gone." Craig muttered. "It hurts more now than when it happened, and it's not even there."

"Ghost pains." Jack nodded his head. "I've heard that when people lose a finger, or a foot, that they have ghost pains." He looked at Craig. "You must have been terrified. You thought we were all dead?"

Craig felt his body fill with a mixture of guilt and fear. "I thought that if anyone was alive that they would come for me. I kept waiting for someone to come." He still didn't look up from his foot.

"They did come." Jack reminded him.

Craig shook his head. "I thought they would come before he did what he did." He tried to explain.

Jack rested his head back, "Oh yeah, like in the old westerns where the cowboys come riding in, their guns blazing and killing all of the bad guys just at the right moment." He sighed. "That's exactly what Bobby usually does too. He actually thought it through for a change though. He came up with a real plan and didn't just make it up as he went. You know that, don't you? You know why they couldn't go after you; they had get Sweet to bring you to them?" He asked.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I know." He didn't sound too convincing though, he knew that. He knew what his brothers had told him, but that didn't mean he understood it completely. He was still battling the feelings that had overwhelmed him that night, though they weren't as bad now as they had been at first.

"Craig, if they could have done that and knew for certain you were safe, they would have. By bargaining with Sweet, they had insurance that he wouldn't hurt you, at least not too bad. He had to keep you in one piece, and bring you with him, in order for Jerry to show up on that ice with the money." Jack spoke slowly. "Trust me, Bobby and the guns blazing plan isn't always the best one."

"I know." Craig muttered.

Jack stared at the boy, who was still boring his stare into his foot. "You didn't think Bobby would care enough to come for you. Did you?" He seemed to be reading the boy's thoughts.

Craig's gaze snapped away from his foot and to Jack, he hadn't expected to hear those words. The tears started to form in his eyes again. "He never liked me. I don't understand how he can like me now, all of a sudden." He admitted, confirming one of his worst fears, not only to Jack but to himself. He'd been spending days trying to convince himself that he had nothing to be afraid of as far as any of his brothers caring about him, but after so many years of feeling so separated from them it was hard to keep that insecurity buried.

"Jesus, Craig!" Jack cried out. "He's always liked you." He looked surprised.

"No he didn't. None of you did." Craig felt more tears choking at his words. "You never wanted me around."

"Where in God's name did you ever get a fucking idea like that? What, because we weren't the television version of what a loving, caring big brother was?" Jack turned slightly, grimacing from the strain it put on his body. "You were seven years old when Mom brought you home, and you were small, and you didn't know the shit that we knew. You were, innocent. You really think we wanted to corrupt you? Man, you weren't like us Craig. You didn't need to grow up before your time. Bobby wouldn't let you hang around us because he wanted you to be a little kid for as long as you could." He drew in a deep breath. "None of us knew you'd been though the shit you'd been through, or that you were thinking that we didn't like you." He studied the boy's face for a long moment.

"I know." Craig muttered. "I know that." He looked back down at his foot.

Jack closed his eyes. "When I first came here I was a lot like you though." He was quiet for a long while, before opening his eyes. "Sometimes I feel the same way." He admitted, "Like I don't quite fit in with Bobby and Angel, and especially Jerry."

"You do?" Craig hadn't expected those words from Jack.

"Yeah, I do." Jack opened his eyes and looked back down at Craig. "So, I do understand why you feel that way, sometimes. It's not like Bobby is the easiest person to talk to. He's pretty bossy, and he can be a little critical." He frowned.

Craig stared at Jack, absorbing his words, "A little?" He asked sarcastically.

"He also has this thing about controlling everyone around him." Jack's lips turned up slightly.

Craig was waiting for Jack to bring up a point that would make some sense to him, to tell him something that would make him feel better.

"Craig, I can't tell you how to deal with your feelings. I can only let you know I understand them, and can relate to them, and that if you need to talk, I'll listen and try to offer some advice." Jack kept his eyes fixed on the boy. "And I can tell you without a doubt that your brothers all like you. Hell, your brothers all love you."

Craig swallowed at that tears he was struggling to hold in. "Sweet told me you didn't. And I was scared, and no one had come for me, and I believed him." He felt as if he were confessing, though he had already told Bobby the same thing, he still felt as if it were weighing him down. "He told me you were all alive and no one had come for me because no one really cared what happened to me."

"But they did come for you, and you can't focus on what Sweet told you, you have to focus on the truth." Jack let out a yawn.

"Are you tired?" Craig asked, half hoping that Jack wanted to stop talking. It was hard for him to voice what he was feeling, and to bring up the memories that Jack was prying out of him, though he had to admit that Jack hadn't had to pry too hard.

"I didn't really sleep much last night." Jack admitted. "You see, the shit that happened with you, and the shooting and everything, it brought back memories for me too."

"I'm sorry." Craig felt the tears breaking free, and reached up to wipe them away. "I didn't mean to…" He didn't have a chance to finish saying that he didn't mean to make Jack feel bad before his brother spoke, cutting him off.

"Don't be. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to try to help you in some way. I don't know if it helped you, but this little talk helped me. You helped me see some things in a different way, and that's good." Jack pulled his arm from Craig. "I think we should do this more often, maybe both of us can get to feeling better, eventually."

"But I don't like to talk Jack." Craig leaned forward and let his foot rest on the floor. "It's too hard to talk."

"Well, maybe you can share some of your pictures with me?" Jack suggested. "Maybe you and me can work through your memories and fix the parts that are missing, and then it would be easier for you to talk?"

Craig looked back at the checker board. "I can't." He studied the pieces on the board for a long moment before reaching out and picking up one of his black checkers, and jumping over four of Jack's men. "King me." He muttered as he pulled the red captives off the board, then reached up with both hands and wiped the tears off his face, clearing his throat and forcing the tears down.

Jack leaned forward. "It wasn't your move." He frowned as he studied the board. "Think about the pictures, don't say no right away."

"Yes it was my move." Craig looked at Jack, though to be honest, he wasn't sure. "I'll think about it." He added to let his brother know he was paying attention.

"No it wasn't, it was my move. Put them back." Jack pointed to the men Craig had set down on just next to the board.

"No, it was my turn." Craig insisted.

"You are a cheater." Jack cried out.

"No I'm not, it was my move!" Craig couldn't help but laugh at the irritated look that crossed his brother's face. He had to admit, he was feeling better inside, not perfect, but better. Maybe talking with Jack had been a good idea.

"Fine, if that's the only way you can win, then go ahead and cheat." Jack looked at him and grinned.

"Okay, time for lunch!" Bobby appeared in the doorway. "Come on, your big brother Angel slaved hard over this one." He laughed as he walked across the room to help Jack get up.

Craig grabbed Jack's arm before he could stand. "Jack." He sounded as serious as he could.

Jack looked at him, and seemed surprised the boy had grabbed his arm. He leaned closer as if he were expecting to hear something important from the boy, "Yeah?"

"King me." Craig pointed to the board again; specifically to the black checker sitting on Jack's end of the board.

Jack gave him a threatening glare, but he reached out and rested another of Craig's pieces on top of the one in question, mumbling under his breath as he did.


	10. Chapter 10

Got to move away from the Mercer house and catch up on the absent Mercer brother! :) Let me know what you think, please!

Legal statement still count for this one...

* * *

**Chapter 10: Jeremiah's Future**

Jeremiah sat at the table in front of the board or representatives that had been brought together to decide the fate of his project. The panel consisted of a group from the city council, the District Attorney's office, and the zoning board. He had been making phone calls, and talking to the loan officer about reinstating his redevelopment loan. He was confident he could get his project back on the ground and get back to work on it. It was his life on the line here, his family, and his dreams. Everything that mattered to him hung in the balance, and he couldn't lose this opportunity.

Green sat next to him, on his left. The detective had filed numerous reports with each office represented before them, outlining the truth behind Victor Sweet's connection to Councilman Douglas, and the true reasons the project had been shut down and blackballed to begin with.

Robert Bradford, his mother's lawyer, sat on his right, representing him now, and willing to financially back him, at least partially, to help him get his crew and equipment back up and running. The man had also submitted his own personal statements to the individual offices, outlining his own firsthand knowledge of the circumstances leading up to Jerry's project being shut down. He not only had heard what Evelyn had told him, but she had given him some critical documentation to hold onto, documentation that proved everything about Jeremiah's business was legal, and if anything, above the normal standards. Jerry had no idea how his mother had managed to obtain the copies of all of the documents he'd filed for permits, and for his loan, but most of it had been a matter of public record, that was how Sweet had gotten a hold of the same papers, soiling them with his filthy hands and screwing up his life. Thank God Evelyn Mercer had obtained copies of them before Sweet and had enough sense to give them to Robert Bradford, who would know what to do with them when the time came.

He glanced at the white haired man next to him, thankful his mother had found someone who had been so good to her, and had been willing to take up her fight after she was gone. He didn't have to be there with him now, he could have washed his hands of the whole situation once Evelyn was dead, but he hadn't. He'd approached Jeremiah with all of this information, and had made this hearing possible. If not for him, Jerry Mercer would be up shit creek.

Bless his mother, she was taking care of him even now, after her death, and he loved her even more than ever for that. She had managed to make sure that once all of the bullshit was done and over with, that he would have what he needed to get his life back together. He only wished that he had a way to thank her for that.

Behind the three men sat Evan, an old friend who had been intimidated into to working for Sweet, and some of Victor Sweets other men who had fallen into the same trap. Jerry had promised good paying jobs to all of them, and they were there to offer testimony as to the truth behind how Sweet had shut Jerry down, in a way as to not connect any of them with the death of the man of course. Jerry had sat in his seat and listened as each man spoke, supporting the fact that Jerry was clean, and his business was legitimate.

Robert Bradford leaned over towards Jerry, as they were waiting for the panel of nine people to read over the documents before them. "Where are your brothers? They could bring some very important information to light."

Jerry raised his eyebrows and looked at the man. "You really think they need to be here? I didn't tell them any of this was going down, man. This is my business, and I don't want to drag them into it. They've got enough going on at home; they don't need to be dealing with this." He spoke quietly, "Besides, can you picture Bobby sitting in here?" He let the corners of his mouth turn up slightly.

Robert's right hand drifted to his stomach around the area where Bobby had smacked him the night they had broken into his house. "Well, that may have been a good judgment call on your part." He nodded his head and cleared his throat quietly.

Green looked over and laughed at the remark. "I believe that was a damn good call." He shook his head.

Jerry smiled. "Yeah, man, I know my brother." He looked at the table of men and women in front of him. "What is taking them so long?" He glanced from Bradford to Green.

"They need to look over everything we've given to them." Bradford sighed.

"They were given all of the documents yesterday, right? Shouldn't they have gone over them then?" Jerry asked. He felt anxious, and frustrated. He was so close to getting his life back, getting his pride back, and having everyone know that he was not a hoodlum.

"Calm down Jeremiah." Green leaned forward on the table. "You clean up real nice by the way." He laughed, referring to the tie and dress slacks the man was wearing.

"Yeah, my Mama raised me with some class." Jerry grinned and glanced up at the men and women seated at the larger table, each reading through the papers and leaning towards each other, whispering comments and nodding or shaking their heads.

Robert Bradford smiled. "Yes, she was a woman of class." He sighed and seemed to drift off into his own thoughts.

Jerry looked at the man. "Don't be starting that talk now man. I ain't ready to hear how classy she was from you. No offense, but you are talking about my Mama." He was thankful Bradford and Green were there with him; his fears of being driven back into the ground would be eating away at him at that moment if they hadn't been there. He did wish his brothers were there, but he didn't want to share his plans with them until he was certain he could give them good news. He could offer them all a cut in on the business and turn it into a family operation. That would be perfect, his brothers working beside him, all of them together again. He had missed that the years they had been apart. He had missed knowing they were there to watch his back, and he'd missed celebrating good times with them. He knew that if Bobby had been around when he'd first started up the project, that Sweet never would have gotten close to him; Bobby would have stopped him before it got as far as Evelyn Mercer losing her life for him.

He had to make this work, to honor the woman who had raised him, and taught him, and had stood by him when the rest of the world was beating him down. He owed it to her.

The chairman, Mr. Peters from the zoning board, was sitting at the center of the table in front of them. He cleared his throat and looked in their direction as the papers were all passed back to him. He looked at Jeremiah and drew in a deep breath. "Mr. Mercer, this board has reviewed the documents; we have heard the testimony, quite convincing testimony as to the circumstances that have brought you before us today." He drew in a deep breath. "Our concerns here seem to stem from one central focal point." He glanced down his left side at the members of the panel, and then to his right. Each person nodded their heads in agreement. "You have shown quite convincing evidence that your legitimate dealings were tainted by some very influential criminals, and that your business was shut down by means of false records and unsubstantiated accusations. What is to prevent this from happening again?"

Robert Bradford stood, with his briefcase in his hand, and rested it on the table in front of them. He opened the case and pulled out files. He started talking, and reading off of the legal forms he had in his hands, quoting precedence that had had been set in court for situations similar to this one.

Jerry tried to listen to the argument Bradford was presenting, and the words that were passing back and forth between the lawyer and the panel of men and women that were to decide his fate. But his mind was busy thinking about all of the reasons these people could come up with for keeping him shut down, for preventing him from making something good of his life. His juvenile court records were sealed, so they didn't have access to those files, but he'd gotten into some scrapes after he'd turned eighteen. He'd been caught doing some shit that left him with a reputation that he was not proud of. Like his brothers, he'd spent a few months behind bars, and at the time, it had seemed like the normal way for his life to play out. Now though, he was a grown man, he had a family, he had a lot of responsibility, and he had some pride. He wanted to move on, not continue to be shoved back to that life. He needed to get past it. If he could get past it, then maybe his brothers could get past it, and they could all be better for it.

He felt his face growing hot with the tension building inside of him. He felt Green's hand pat him on the back, and brought himself out of his thoughts. There were smiles on Green's and Bradford's faces. Bradford was returning his files to his briefcase, and Green was standing up.

"Okay, what just happened?" Jerry felt embarrassed to have to ask the question. He'd missed what had been said.

"You fool, you got the go ahead." Evan spoke from behind him.

Jerry let a smile creep onto his face. "I got it?" He stood, looking at Bradford. "I got it?"

"Yes, Mr. Mercer." Mr. Peters spoke from his seat at the table at the front of the room. A smile crossed the man's face. "You got it." He moved to gather up the papers in front of him as he stood. "Just one thing for you to keep in mind," He looked back to the man. "If there are any inclinations that your business is being funded by any unsavory characters, you will be shut down, again." He warned. "Merry Christmas."

Jerry grinned wide and turned to the men behind him, and to Bradford and Green. "Thank you all." He felt his heart rate increase as pure joy filled him. "Man, y' all have done so much to make this happen." He let his eyes scan each of them. "I won't let y' all down, I won't."

"We know that Jerr'." Evan grinned and gave his friend an easy pat on the back.

"I'll be checking up on you man, so if there is anything, any one contacts you that could cause trouble, you make damn sure you let me know about it." Green pointed a finger at the man.

Jerry nodded his head. "You and Bradford will be the first to know." Jerry looked over to Robert Bradford. "Man, you were great. You bailed my ass out. Thank you." He spoke with as sincere a voice he could. He truly owed his future to the man. He was tempted to give him a hug, but thought twice about it.

"I'm more than happy to do this, for Evelyn." Bradford smiled a small smile. "Be in my office in the morning. We can get the wheels in motion and get your business back in operation."

* * *

Nicholas Peters pulled his car into the drive of his home. He felt as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. After so many years of living in fear of what Victor Sweet would do to him if he didn't follow his orders, he had finally been able to do something right, do his job the way it was meant to be done. He no longer had Sweet hanging over him, controlling his every moved, each decision he made. No more worries about his wife finding out about the mistake he'd made over a year ago. It had only happened once. It had only been one night, and he'd felt so guilty. He loved his wife, he loved his life, and finally he was free of the bullshit that one mistake had brought down on him. Yes, this was going to be a good Christmas, and the start of a wonderful new year.

The man pulled the car into the garage, and hit the remote clipped to his visor to close the door. He got out of the car, and headed for the entrance to the house. The shadows on the back wall caught his attention, alerting him that he wasn't alone, and he turned towards the lowering garage door in time to see three men ducking in. The shock prevented real fear from taking form at first. The fear didn't hit him until two of the men had him pinned to the wall. The third man stepped into view with a wide smile on his face.

"I have cash, take anything you want…" Peters spoke quickly.

"Shut up." Jessup Winston laughed. "We aren't going to rob your ass. We aren't here for that." He sounded calm as he spoke. "Your wife isn't home, is she?"

Peters shook his head from side to side. "She's out of town actually." He informed the man with a tremor to his voice. Was this man after his wife? Oh thank God she wasn't there. Thank God her mother had needed surgery and his wife was sitting by her side in Seattle at that very moment.

"Let's go inside and talk." Winston still smiled.

"What do you want?" Peters cried out.

Winston sighed, and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out an envelope. "I think this would be better inside, but if you want to conduct business here, in your garage, then so be it." He sounded pleasant as he thrust the envelope out towards the man. "My name is Jessup Winston, and I have a business deal for you Mr. Peters. I'm sure you are familiar with the terms of a deal such as this. The terms would follow along the same lines as the deal you had with Victor Sweet."

Peters felt his heart sink. He was supposed to free. "I don't know what you are talking about." He spoke with a weak voice. Hell, he knew exactly what this man was saying.

Jessup Winston kept the envelope held out towards the man, a knowing look spread across his face. "I truly believe you will find this new arrangement more to your tastes though, Mr. Peters."

Peters reached out and took the envelope. He opened it up to reveal a large bundle of money, as well as a photo copy of a picture of Peters with a young brunette, in a not so innocent position. Peters looked at Winston, Sweet had never included money on their deals, and this was starting to look like an improvement to his previous contract with Sweet. "How did you get this?" He held up the paper holding the copied picture.

"That is nothing for you to be concerned about. Just know that if you fail to meet our terms, the picture will be printed in the morning edition of the Detroit News." Winston smiled.

"This has to do with Jeremiah Mercer." Peters was no idiot. He could put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Very good, sir," Jessup nodded his head. "Now, could we please discuss this in a more civilized way? We aren't here to cause you any worry. We want to make this deal as beneficial to you as to ourselves." He motioned to the entrance door of the house. "The least you could do would be to offer us a drink."

The two men holding onto Peters let go of him. The man glanced down at the cash in the envelope, and then drew in a shaky breath. He should just let the man release the photograph to the press. He should let it all come out, and deal with it. He knew that. He knew it would be best to end this here and now. Then he thought about his wife and his family. They didn't need to have their personal lives revealed publicly. They didn't need the embarrassment, or the scandal that it would all cause. It would come out that he had been working for Sweet; against his will perhaps, but he'd still been working for him. How could he ever go on with his life having all of that revealed to the world? He couldn't handle that, his life would be over, his career would be over. He would lose everything.

His conscious nagged at him for a long moment. He would be taking away another man's chance at becoming something. He knew he'd be killing another man's dream, and probably ending his life as he knew it. Jeremiah Mercer had done nothing wrong, and he'd felt so good about being able to correct his own misdoing. Now he was right back to where he'd started. Of course, the money in his hands was also doing some talking.

"There is more money where that came from, so long as you do right by us." Jessup Winston could see the man in front of him battling between making a choice. He could also see that the money was pulling Peters in his direction.

Peters closed the envelope and stuck it into the breast pocket of his suit coat. "Let's go inside gentlemen. We can discuss this business over a drink." He could have sworn he heard a trap door closing behind him, but he ignored the feeling of dread that was trying to overpower him.


	11. Chapter 11

Hope you like :) Let me know and as always thanks for reading.

Still do not own Four Brothers, nor do I profit in anyway from this fiction...

* * *

**Chapter 11: Jack's Request**

Craig was surprised to find Angel had actually made hamburgers. Not just regular hamburgers, but the kind that Evelyn used to make, with onions and peppers chopped up and mixed in with the meat, and tomatoes and lettuce to pile on top of them. He ate one, and seemed to surprise Bobby when he asked if he could have another one off of the plate in the center of the table.

Bobby shrugged his shoulders and lifted the plate so the teen could reach it and grab his next patty. "You're that hungry?" He asked. "You eat as much as you fucking want." He set the plate back in the center of the table once Craig had his burger.

Bobby looked at Jack, who was already on his second sandwich, and then he looked back to Craig. "So, what the hell did you two do while you in the living room that would give you such an appetite?" He asked quietly.

Craig looked at Bobby, and then glanced over at Jack before reaching for a bun for his burger. He hadn't thought about Jack sharing their conversation with any of his other brothers, but now that Bobby had asked, the worry was sparked.

Jack looked up at Craig and then looked at Bobby. "You seen what we were doing, he was cheating at checkers." He spoke with a mumble and then took a bite of his sandwich.

Craig let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and reached for the ketchup and mustard.

"Bullshit, but if you don't want to share then just say you don't want to share." Bobby shook his head and looked at Craig, then back to Jack. "Jerry called while Angel was cooking." He commented. "He wants to come over tonight. You guys got any important plans?" His tone was sarcastic.

"Ha ha," Jack muttered. "You're very funny Bobby, only plans we have are for you to nurse our 'owies'."

Craig snickered at the remark.

"You watch it kid, your 'owies' have all healed up, and I can smack the crap out of you." Bobby reached out and gave Craig a light smack to the back of his head, and then looked at Jack, "And don't be thinking I'm not keeping track of how many you're gonna get little brother. I got it all wrote down. I'm beginning to think you're a bad influence on him." He pointed to Craig.

Jack looked at Craig and grinned.

Craig ate his burger while his brothers threw snide remarks back and forth across the table at each other. Once lunch was over Bobby looked at Craig and told him he could get the table cleaned off and wash the dishes. "I'll be right here watching every move you make little boy, so no wandering off." He warned him with a serious tone.

"I won't." Craig muttered and helped Angel carry the dishes into the kitchen. Even if he had wanted to wander off, it wouldn't have been able to happen; Angel stayed in the kitchen and helped him with the dishes while Bobby helped Jack get into his bed so that he could rest. Craig glanced in at the two men a few times. Bobby was helping Jack change the bag on the drainage tube, and then cleaned the incision. After that he sat in a chair next to the bed and the two of them were talking quietly.

For the second time Craig felt worried that Jack would tell Bobby what they had been talking about. It wasn't as if Bobby didn't know most of it, but it was still a personal conversation he'd had with Jack, and while they had talked about similar things that he'd talked to Bobby about, it had been in a different light, with a different understanding. Besides, he'd talked in more detail with Jack and about some things he'd never mentioned to Bobby. The responses from Jack had been different than they would have been with Bobby. Jack's opinions and his understanding were far more informed than Bobby's were. Jack knew firsthand what Craig felt, while Bobby could only try to imagine it. There was a big difference in how that influenced the conversation.

Bobby came into the kitchen just as Craig and Angel were putting the last of the dishes away. He looked at Craig for a long moment. The boy looked back at him questioningly, not sure what was going on, but fearing Jack had said something about their talk.

Bobby nodded his head slowly. "Jack's taking a nap, he's pretty tired." He drew in a deep breath.

"Okay." Craig muttered, not sure why his brother would make such a big deal about Jack resting.

"Angel, you remember where that Christmas tree lot is?" Bobby looked over at Angel.

"Yeah, but you said we was gonna skip the tree this year." Angel looked just as confused as Craig felt at that moment.

"Yeah, I did, but Jack just told me he wanted a tree." Bobby shook his head. "He said he missed having one."

Craig felt his heart jump into his throat, and hoped his surprised expression didn't show.

"I mean, when I told him that we weren't gonna get the tree, he seemed okay with it, didn't he?" Bobby looked at Angel questioningly.

"Yeah, he said he didn't think he wanted to be around anything that remotely reminded him of Christmas this year, in fact. He said he didn't think he could handle it." Angel looked just as confused as Bobby did. "To be honest, I feel the same way; I don't think I can handle the whole celebration bullshit."

Bobby shrugged his shoulders, "I don't either, but, he just asked if we could get a tree." He looked at Craig. "Did he say anything to you while you two were in there playing your checkers?"

Craig shook his head, "No." He kept the answer short and sweet, hoping Bobby didn't pick up on the tension in his voice. He knew what Jack had done. He knew Jack was trying to make him feel better, and now he was going to end up feeling worse. None of his brothers wanted a tree because they weren't ready to celebrate another holiday without their mother. Christmas would be a thousand times harder than Thanksgiving. He'd told Jack it didn't feel like Christmas, and he'd told him how he had never had a Christmas before he came to live with Evelyn Mercer. Jack was trying to make him feel better.

"I wonder what brought this on. I mean, we can get a tree, but the look on his face, it seemed awfully important to him, and he wouldn't tell me why." Bobby looked at Angel. "I think we gotta get a tree."

"Well, hell, I'll go get the fucking tree, you get the shit out of the attic and drag it down." Angel tossed the dish towel onto the counter and walked past Bobby to the foyer to grab his coat. "I'll call Sofi and tell her to get her ass back home and help." He smiled at his brother.

"Yeah, you do that. Make sure she brings some decent food for dinner tonight too. The only reason I let her stay is because she can cook." Bobby laughed.

"Bobby, admit that you like her." Angel called from the front of the house.

"La Vida Loca?" Bobby's face scrunched up into a hard frown, "Hell no, I can't stand that crazy girl. She's liable to bring chili peppers to hang on the tree."

"She has some; I'll make sure she knows you asked for them." Angel walked out of the house, closing the door loud enough that they would know he'd left.

Bobby looked at Craig and grinned. "Well come on, let's get the boxes out of the attic before he gets back or we'll never hear the end of it."

Craig followed his brother through the house, up the stairs and to the attic door in the ceiling. He waited for Bobby to pull down the door and ladder. "You don't want a Christmas tree?" He asked the question quietly just as Bobby was about to go up the ladder.

Bobby turned and looked at the boy. He stepped back down to the floor and crossed his arms at his chest. "No, not really, do you?"

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "I don't care." He lied. "But why don't you want one? Why doesn't Angel want one?"

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "Well, without Ma around, it just doesn't feel right to go around acting all happy and celebrating. That's all." Bobby seemed hesitant in talking about it, and Craig had the feeling that he wasn't being honest with him. "Besides, it's gonna be fucking crowded down there with a tree sitting in the living room."

"But Mom loved Christmas." Craig muttered.

"Yeah, and that's one reason why it feels wrong." Bobby's voice held some tension, and Craig knew it would be better to let it go.

But he had to ask another question. "Then why are you getting a tree?"

"Because Jack wants one all of a sudden, and I'll do anything for him." Bobby sounded as if the answer should have been obvious to the boy. "You got a problem with having a tree? Because if you do, I don't think I can handle telling Jack we ain't getting one. I'm sorry, but he seems to really want one."

Craig shook his head slowly. "No, I don't have a problem with it." For some reason he felt a pang of hurt from Bobby's words. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd asked about getting a tree himself, if Bobby would have done it, or if he would have said no. He hadn't asked him before if he was okay with it, he'd just told him how it was going to be. Apparently his brother's had asked each other, and discussed it amongst themselves before making the decision.

"We'll call Jerry and warn him about the decorating party that we seem to be planning. Maybe he can bring Camille and the girls with him." Bobby turned and headed up the ladder as he spoke the words in an irritated voice. "Little kids always like shit like that." He reached the top and looked down at Craig, who was still lost in his own thoughts. "Well come on, I ain't carrying this shit down by myself." He called impatiently.

Craig climbed up after Bobby and waited until the man had the light turned on before stepping all the way into the attic. He looked around at the boxes and objects around him. He hadn't been in the attic for a long time. The old coat rack was setting in the corner, with some shirts hanging off of it. There were boxes stacked up along one wall, with names written on them to identify who they had belonged to. Most of them were Bobby's. There were several with Jerry, Angel and Jack's names. There were a couple on the wall opposite that he recognized as holding some of his sketchpads, and he made a mental note as to their location, just in case he decided to get them.

Bobby found the Christmas decorations easy enough. He started handing some of the boxes to Craig, apparently making sure they weren't too heavy for the boy.

Craig helped to carry everything they needed down to the living room, It took trips from both of them, with Bobby carrying most of the boxes. Once the decorations were down, Bobby had Craig help him move the couch down the wall until it was right up against the desk, and move the end table and its contents from the corner and out to the foyer.

It seemed the longer they worked the more irritated Bobby was getting, and Craig didn't understand it. Bobby lost his patience with him a couple of times, because he didn't move fast enough, or he didn't put something in the right place.

Craig felt his own feelings starting to churn around. He didn't like Bobby yelling at him, and getting upset with him. It was starting to feel too much like before, when he was certain none of his brothers liked him. He still had that doubt, no matter what Jack had told him, or what Bobby had said to him over and over. If they liked him, why did they get so angry with him so easy? Why did it seem h e couldn't do anything right as far as they were concerned, as far as Bobby was concerned at least. He didn't understand why his brothers were going to get the tree if it was bothering them that much. He was sure Jack had asked Bobby about one because of their talk, and he thought Craig wanted one. Of course Craig had wanted one, but he would have been okay without the Christmas tree. He did understand the reasoning behind skipping Christmas that year. He understood how going on with the holiday would be hard for his brothers, without their mother, it would be hard for him too, but he'd also yearned for the feeling of being close to her by embracing her favorite time of year. He could have gone without the tree; it wasn't something that he had to have to make it through that week. In fact, if his brothers were going to get pissed off and start snapping his head off, he would prefer not to have the tree at all, and he was regretting having talked to Jack about Christmas at all.

Bobby started opening boxes until he found the lights. He instructed Craig to get the checkers picked up and put away. Once that was done, he told the boy to start pulling the strings out and plugging them in to check them. Craig carried the box over to the chair in front of the record player and started going through the tangle of wires and multi colored bulbs. Bobby set the rest of the boxes on the coffee table and started going through them. The man was being quiet and had a faraway look in his eyes as he went through the ornaments.

Craig couldn't help but wish now that they weren't doing the whole Christmas thing. His favorite part had been watching his mother pulling the ornaments out of their boxes and the light that would fill her as she looked at each other. Bobby stood abruptly and walked across the living room to the dining room, disappearing from view.

Craig drew in a shaky breath and continued working on the lights, though his heart was not in it. His feelings were quickly falling into a black hole. He considered going to Jack and asking him to talk to Bobby and take back his request for a tree. He knew that Bobby would not bring a tree into the house if Jack asked him not to. The man had told him just thirty minutes earlier that he would do anything for Jack. Craig could feel a wall going up between him and Bobby and he wasn't sure if he was the one putting it up or if Bobby was, but he knew he didn't like it. He would have preferred not having Christmas to having Bobby getting upset with him.


	12. Chapter 12

Legal statement still counts :)

* * *

**Chapter 12: Oh Christmas Tree...**

Craig was still going through the lights, and thinking about Bobby's sudden bad mood when the man walked back into the living room. Bobby looked down at him. "You got those taken care of yet?" He asked.

Craig felt a rock hit his stomach. "Not yet." He was still trying to untangle the last two strings of lights.

"Give them to me." Bobby reached down and picked up the box, pulling it from Craig's hands, surprising the boy.

Craig watched Bobby move to the other chair and sit down to work at pulling the wires apart. "What can I do?" He asked quietly.

"You can sit there and wait. Angel should be back soon with the fucking tree." Bobby didn't look up at him, his voice still sounded tight.

Craig felt his heart twist in his chest at the tone of Bobby's voice. The words were normal for the man, but he'd started recognizing the different sounds to his voice. He could tell when the man was truly upset, and at that moment, Bobby Mercer was upset.

Craig continued to watch his brother struggling with the wires, cursing every so often because they were being difficult. "I can do it if you want me too." The boy spoke after several minutes of Bobby losing his patience.

Bobby looked at him. "You were taking a fucking week." He returned his gaze back to the box and continued working.

"You aren't doing any better, and I wasn't getting mad at it." Craig muttered the words defensively, not able to stop himself. He was getting mad at Bobby for getting mad at him for no reason. He could remember times when he was little when Bobby would sound and act the same with him, and always seemed to end up walking away from him and leaving him to himself.

Bobby looked at him again. "You need to put yourself in check kid. Don't be using that fucking tone of voice with me; I'll give you good smack." He warned.

Craig felt his heart twist a little tighter. The little voice that he continued to battle with every day was telling him things were already going back to the way they used to be. Bobby was talking to him like he used to. The voice of reason that had, up until now, usually won out on most of the battles, tried to tell him that Bobby was having a hard time dealing with the whole Christmas thing, and he shouldn't take what the man said to him to heart. He needed to just let it go, and do what Bobby told him to. They would be able to talk about it later, and Bobby would probably apologize for being short with him.

But the other voice, the voice that was trying to tell him what he needed to do to protect his self, was telling him that he needed to pull back, and keep his distance. There was nothing to talk about. It didn't matter how upset Bobby was, the man didn't need to treat him like shit. He hadn't been the one who had asked for the Christmas tree.

Then the guilt kicked in on top of that because he knew why Jack had asked. Jack had asked because of him, so he was the reason Bobby was upset. He knew Jack was trying to help, but it was upsetting everyone, and he knew if he was going to make it through any more Christmas preparations, he would have to turn off his feelings, and put his walls all of the way up. If he put the walls up, then what good was it to have a Christmas tree, or try to have Christmas at all? It wasn't as if he was going to enjoy it, and his brothers weren't going to enjoy it. He could put his walls up and not feel anything at all, and be safe. What difference was it going to make? Bobby was putting walls up, why shouldn't he?

Bobby looked up at the sound of the front door opening. Angel walked in, carrying a box, with Sofi right behind him. Angel had an evil look in his eye. "Sofi brought some decorations." He stopped in the living room doorway, smiling at Bobby.

Bobby looked up at him, and almost looked relieved that Angel was back. "Yeah, and I bet I know what's in that fucking box too." He stood and walked over, pulling out a string of red and green ceramic chili peppers. He looked up at Angel. "You have got to be kidding me!" He cried out, and looked at Sofi, who was standing behind Angel. "No way, this shit ain't goin' on our tree." He shook his head.

That started Sofi to yelling at him, asking him why he had asked for it to start with if he didn't really want it. Bobby yelled that he hadn't wanted it, and then both of them looked at Angel. Angel tried to referee as best as he could. Craig stared at the box of tangled lights that Bobby had abandoned, but he didn't make a move towards it. He listened as Bobby finally gave in and Angel and Sofi had a few words of their own before Sofi went up the stairs.

Angel turned and looked at Bobby. "Well come on, help me get the tree." He looked at his older brother, who was still standing in the middle of the room holding the box of decorations Sofi had brought.

Bobby had half the string held up out of the box. The red and green ceramic clinked together. "They really put these on the trees?" He looked at Angel, skepticism on written on his face.

"Yeah man, I knew you'd like that." Angel laughed.

Bobby shrugged his shoulders, "Yeah I do, but don't you fucking tell her or I'll bust you upside the head." He turned and found a place to put the box down before looking at Craig. "Why don't you dig through here and find the tree stand? Make yourself useful for something." He spoke to the boy before following Angel out the front door.

Craig stood and walked over to one of the larger boxes. He knew exactly where the stand was, he'd been the one who packed it away the year before. He pulled it out and then pulled out the felt tree skirt that would hide the stand once the tree was set up. The green felt had been decorated by him when he was ten. It had been a project at school where his whole class cut out skirts from red or green felt, and decorated it with glitter and beads and white felt snowmen and reindeer cut outs. He had given it to his mother that year for Christmas, and for the next three years she had used it instead of the deep red velvet one that was still folded and resting in the bottom of the box. Craig considered grabbing the other tree skirt, but his brothers walked in at that moment, carrying the six foot tall tree.

Craig stepped back out of the way and watched as his brothers struggled to get the tree around the corner, through the doorway, and into the living room. He would have found the sight amusing if it hadn't felt so awful. Bobby and Angel were both cursing at the tree, and at Christmas, and for having to fight with an evergreen in their own home, and the evergreen was winning. They both sounded as if they were about to burst and Craig almost expected Bobby to pull a lighter out of his pocket and set the tree on fire at any moment.

As if on cue Bobby spoke up. "Where is the gasoline? I know how to take care of this fucker."He growled out the words. "Why did you have to get one so big Angel?" He asked.

"I didn't see you out there in the fucking cold trying to pick out any trees, don't be yellin' at me, man." Angel dropped his end and stood straight up. "Screw this. We need a saw."

Bobby shook his head. "We don't need no saw, just pick up your end and walk it that way?" He pointed in the direction he wanted Angel to move.

"If I move that way I'm gonna take out the end table. Who the hell put that there?"Angle cried out.

Bobby made an irritated noise deep in his throat. "Craig, get your ass around there and move that damn table. I told you to put it far enough away from the door to leave room for the tree." He turned to look at the boy.

"I thought I did." Craig spoke weakly.

"Damn boy, don't you pay attention to nothin'?" Bobby cried out.

"I thought I had it far enough away from the fucking door." Craig muttered more to himself than Bobby, and appparently the man hadn't heard him because he didn't yell at him. He walked through the dining room, then the kitchen, and back into the foyer to grab a hold of the table and pull it down the hall closer to the kitchen. He didn't think about the lamp on the table, and when he started pulling on the table the wooden base of the lamp started rocking. He stopped pulling and reached out to grab the lamp, but wasn't fast enough.

Angel dropped his end of the tree and tried to reach as well, but the lamp crashed onto the floor. The bulb shattered into a million pieces on the floor, and the wooden base cracked up the side.

Craig's heart fell instantly. That had been his mother's lamp, and he was sure one of his brothers, he thought it was Jack, had given it to her on an important occasion, but he couldn't remember exactly what one. He looked at Angel, who was giving him a hard stare. "Damn it Craig." He spoke angrily.

Moments later Bobby's head peaked around the doorway, just above the tree. The man looked at Craig. "You stupid…" He stopped his words as he disappeared from view. Seconds later he was coming up behind the boy. "Get it cleaned up." He didn't yell, but his voice still held the tightness, and his jaw was set.

Craig looked at Bobby. "I'm sorry." He barely got the words out.

"I don't want to hear it Craig. Use your fucking head next time. You never think." Bobby shook his head. "Now get the shit cleaned up." Bobby walked back through the kitchen, making his way back to the living room. Craig watched for a moment while Angel and Bobby resumed their struggle with the tree.

Craig picked up the base of the lamp and walked it to the kitchen table. In only a few minutes he had the glass cleaned up. He felt like crying, but a block of ice was forming in his chest preventing him from doing so. His brain was putting those walls up. He told himself he didn't care if Bobby was mad, or that he'd managed to destroy one of the few things left of his mother. He stood at the kitchen table and studied the base, thinking that maybe he could fix it. Maybe he could repair the lamp, and in doing so, repair the rift that seemed to be forming between him and his brothers. He was sure that Jack was going to be just as pissed as Bobby and Angel about the lamp. He'd probably wonder why he'd bothered ever trying to be nice to him once he found out about that lamp.

"Craig, get your ass in here!" Bobby appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

Craig looked at Bobby and followed the man back through the foyer, and into the living room. The tree was set in the stand, and when Craig looked down at the skirt he found that one of his brothers had pulled the old one out and used it. The felt skirt was stuffed back into the box.

Craig didn't comment on it. He mentally told himself he didn't deserve to have his skirt under the tree, not after putting his brothers through this much hell, and breaking a lamp that had held some importance. At that moment he didn't want Christmas, he never wanted another Christmas again. He had thought that it would make him feel closer to his mother, but it wasn't working out that way. If anything it was making him feel worse.

That little voice was starting to sound louder to him. Telling him he didn't deserve to have a Christmas, or any other holiday. Nothing had changed since he was seven years old and he had discovered that he'd never been special enough for any one to ever celebrate him being born, no one had really cared enough about him for that, and it was because he didn't deserve it.

Bobby pointed to the chair. "Go ahead and work on the lights." He ordered. "And don't touch anything else. The last thing we need is for something else to end up broken."

"Yeah, man, just sit there and stay out of the fuckin' way." Angel agreed.

Craig sat in the chair and picked up the box. He let his body slouch down and started poking at the wires with his fingers. He had no desire to try to untangle the wires now. He hadn't done a good enough job the first time; he didn't know why Bobby thought he'd do any better this time.

Angel looked at Bobby. "Do you want to do this now or wait?" He asked, motioning towards the tree.

"We're gonna wait for Jerry. He's gonna bring Camille over and we'll let the girls help. That way Jack can be a part of it." Bobby turned and looked into the dining room at Jack, who somehow had managed to stay asleep though all of the commotion of his older brothers bringing in the tree, while his younger brother was breaking a lamp. "I hope he appreciates this." He shook his head, sat down on the couch and picked up the remote control to the television.

Angel sat down next to Bobby on the couch and soon both of them were arguing over who should have control over the remote.

Craig worked slowly on the lights. After nearly twenty minutes he had the last two lines separated, and had plugged in all four to test them. The lights all seemed to work. He rolled them up neatly and put them back into the box, making sure to keep them separate from each other to prevent another mess. He glanced up at the television but the channels were changing at the normal rhythm. He turned slightly in his chair, so that he wasn't facing his brothers, and let his mind fall into thoughts. His plans from when he was at Jerry's were starting to filter back into his brain. The idea of keeping himself safe, and keeping his brothers at a distance emotionally. It seemed they didn't really want to put up with him and if he stayed out of the way, they wouldn't have to.

It would be harder to do while they were all home, in the house, crowded together, like they were now. But once school started he would be gone all day, and he was sure Bobby wouldn't be keeping him so close at home. The man had to stop hovering over him constantly at some point.

Craig glanced into the dining room and looked at the box of sketch pads he had endured an ass beating for just a couple of hours earlier. He remembered the feeling that had overwhelmed him at the school when Mr. Jordan had reached out to touch him. He felt like such an idiot for losing control that way. He couldn't let himself lose it like that again, no matter what the reason. He had to hide any fear that he might feel. He had to hide the fear, and the hurt, and the uncertainty away in that place in his mind that could blank it all out with that opaque fog. How else could he survive? He didn't have his mother to take care of him, and he was coming to the realization that his brothers, no matter what they said, couldn't really be there for him. He had to be there for himself. He had to stop relying on anyone else, especially Bobby. If he didn't expect it, then he couldn't be hurt or disappointed.

Another thirty minutes passed before Jack woke up and called for someone to come and help in. Angel went with no hesitation. Bobby continued changing the channels with the remote. Craig could feel his brother looking at him from time to time. He was dreading anyone telling Jack that he'd broken the lamp, and he was sure that Bobby was about to say something about it.

"Craig," Bobby spoke from the couch after a few minutes.

Craig looked over at him.

"You okay?" Bobby asked quietly.

Craig nodded his head and looked at the television.

"What?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Craig muttered, keeping all emotion out of his voice.

"You want to go take a look at that lamp and see if we can fix it?" Bobby asked.

Craig shook his head. "The base is cracked." He didn't look over at Bobby.

"It's okay Craig it was just a fucking lamp." Bobby spoke calmly.

Craig nodded his head slowly. "Okay." He still didn't look at his brother, but he heard Bobby sigh loudly. He waited to see if the man said any more, but he didn't.


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks all for reading, let me know what you think :)

Disclaimer still counts.

* * *

**Chapter 13: Parents**

Craig felt his heart stiffen on him when Angel walked Jack into the living room, and over to the couch. Bobby and Angel helped the younger man sit on the couch, adjusting the throw pillows to support him. Once Jack was settled Bobby took up his usual position on the opposite end of the couch from Jack. Angel took the only empty chair left in the room.

Jack made a big deal about the tree, and looked over at Craig. "So what do you think?" He grinned at Craig. "It's great huh?"

"It's great." Craig muttered, keeping all emotion out of his voice, and then turned his attention back to the television.

Jack gave Craig a questioning look, and then glanced from Angel to Bobby. His eyebrows rose slightly as if he were expecting some to tell him what was going on.

Bobby shook his head. "Your lamp fell and broke Jack." He looked at the younger man and drew in a deep breath. "It was an accident." He pointedly looked over at the youngest Mercer and gave a nod in his direction.

Jack nodded his head and laughed. "Hell, I found that lamp sitting out on a curb." He looked over at Craig. "That's not a big deal."

Craig didn't look over at his brothers, or show any signs of having heard the words. He had heard them, but he didn't want to acknowledge them. In order for him to keep his defenses up, he had to block out all emotion, even relief. As strange as it sounded, if he had the lamp to feel bad about, it would be easier not to show anything else that he was feeling.

Bobby cleared his throat loudly, and looked at Jack. "Jerry is coming over with his family." He announced.

"Yeah, and Sofi is making some kind of Mexican Chicken dish for everyone." Angel added.

"We figured we could all decorate the tree, like we used to when we were kids." Bobby laughed. "Remember that?"

"Yeah, I remember. You guys never let me put any of the tinsel on the tree." Jack nodded his head, "And that was always the best part."

"Yeah, you used to dance around with it and call it 'fairy dust'." Bobby laughed. "You're such a fucking fairy." He shook his head.

Jack didn't bother to shoot an insult back at Bobby; he looked at the man, apparently confused. "What's wrong with Craig?" He asked the question in a normal voice. "What happened while I was asleep besides bringing in a tree?" He asked.

Craig looked over, his chest suddenly tight. He couldn't believe Jack had asked the question.

"He feels bad about the lamp." Angel shrugged his shoulders.

Jack looked directly at the boy. "I told you, it was no big deal, okay?"

Craig looked back at the television, thankful that Jack's presence seemed to have put a stop to his brothers' channel surfing for the time being. He didn't want to talk about the lamp, or Christmas, or what had happened at the school, or the fact that his mother wasn't there. He didn't want to think about the fact that his brothers really didn't think too much of him or want him there. The way Bobby and Angel had looked at him earlier, the words they had said, and the sounds of their voices validated his fears. His voice of reason had tried to tell him that they were handling bringing a Christmas tree into the house the best way they could. They had both said they didn't want to have a Christmas this year, and it was hard on them. The other part of him was winning the argument though. The part that was still afraid of his brothers, of them not liking him, and of everything that had happened to him in the past few weeks. He had to seal all of that up where it couldn't hurt him.

"Hey, that's rude." Bobby called out, "Your brother is talking to you, don't sit there and ignore him, answer him."

Craig glanced at Bobby, and then focused his stare at Jack. "Okay, I'm not worried about it." He spoke quietly, still keeping his voice steady and detached.

Jack didn't smile; instead a deep frown crossed his face. "Okay, what the hell happened?" He kept his eyes fixed on Craig.

"Nothing," Craig muttered. "Can I watch T.V. now?"

Jack's mouth dropped open slightly, and he looked as if he wanted to say something.

"Really, Jack, nothing else happened, except this fucking tree did not want to come into this house." Angel pointed to the tree.

The next five minutes was spent with a play by play account of the struggle with the tree. Angel standing to demonstrate how he and Bobby had maneuvered around the corner, becoming very animated and cracking jokes about the whole thing. Bobby and Jack laughed at the man's exhibition.

Craig kept his eyes fixed on the television, letting his thoughts wonder. He thought it was strange that it all seemed so funny to both Bobby and Angel now, but at the time they had been royally pissed at every little thing, whether it was really serious or not.

Sofi walked into the room while Angel was still talking, his back to her. She stood there and smiled at him, holding in her own laughter. Craig glanced up in time to watch the woman reach out pinch Angel's ass hard. "What are you doing you moron? You look like an idiot!" Her voice was loud, but it had a hint of playfulness laced in between the words.

Angel's mouth dropped open and his hand swung back to protect his but cheek as he spun around on his heels to face his soon to be wife. "Woman what the fuck do you think you are doing?" He cried out in a surprised tone.

Sofi laughed at him, and Bobby and Jack busted out laughing as well. "Damn, Angel, I told you she was getting awful comfortable here!" Bobby pointed at Angel and laughed.

"That just ain't right." Angel shook his head, his voice quiet.

"I need to go to the store. You can drive me." Sofi gave Angel a poke in the chest.

"I ain't goin' to the store right now." Angel shook his head. "You have your car, you can drive yourself." He pointed towards the front of the house, indicating where Sofi had parked her V.W.

"I want you to drive me." Sofi shook her head. "There is not enough room in my car."

"What the fuck do you need? I thought you had everything here you needed to cook the meal for tonight?" Angel cried out.

"Not everything." Sofi let her bottom lip slide out in a pout, and she looked up at Angel with a sad expression. "You said I could make whatever I wanted tonight. It is my first real Christmas here as part of the family." She placed both hands on Angel's chest.

"Hell Angel, just take her." Jack cried out.

"Yeah, take her Angel. You can take the kid with you too; get him out into some fresh air." Bobby looked over at Craig. "Besides, he can help carry the bags."

Craig hadn't been paying much attention to everything that was being said, but he did hear the last part. He looked over at Bobby, surprised the man was going to let him out of the house without him having to be glued to his side. He didn't want to go, but at the same time, a break from Bobby sounded just like what he needed at that moment.

Sofi smiled up at Angel. "You see, this works out perfectly." She turned and walked out to the kitchen. "Come on Angel, we need to get back here so I can start the chicken."

Craig looked up at Angel, who turned and looked at him. "Well come on, you heard her, let's go." Angel walked out of the living room, and was putting his coat on.

Craig looked at Bobby, still not sure if his oldest brother was serious.

"Go; keep an eye on those two." Bobby pointed towards Angel. "Don't let them get caught making out in the health and beauty aids aisle." He laughed.

"I heard that!" Angel called from the foyer.

Craig stood and followed Angel, who was waiting with the boy's coat held out towards him. "You'd better behave too." Angel told him. "Don't be wanderin' off down no candy aisles or anything." He turned and led the boy through the kitchen and out the back door.

* * *

Jack waited until the house fell silent, and looked at Bobby. "Now tell me what the fuck happened?" He demanded with a stiff voice.

"What are you talking about? Nothing else happened." Bobby shook his head, his face showing his surprise at Jack's words.

"Then why is he acting like he used to?" Jack didn't waste any time with asking the question.

"He knocked the lamp over he felt bad about it. He'll be fine, just give him some time. He knew you gave that to Ma, and that just made it harder, that's all." Bobby shook his head.

"That's bullshit Bobby." Jack's eyes narrowed, but he kept Bobby in his focus. "You yelled at him didn't you?"

"No more than I normally yell at anyone Jack." Bobby laughed. "Don't worry, I'll talk to him later on tonight and he'll be fine."

"You think your talks with him make it all better?" Jack asked.

"Well, yeah, they seem to." Bobby truly didn't seem to understand what Jack was getting at. "And they always worked with you too."

"Bobby, something more happened, I know it." Jack rested back into the pillows, his hand moving to support the drainage tube. "Did you yell at him about anything else besides the lamp?"

Bobby made an irritated sound deep in his throat. "I might have Jack, I don't know. It felt a little strange going through all of Ma's Christmas stuff, you know?" Bobby drew in a deep breath. "But he knew I was having a hard time dealing with it. I told him I really didn't want to do Christmas this year." He confessed. "I mean we did this for you, because you asked for it." Bobby pointed to the tree. "If you want me to be honest with you, I don't think he's quite ready for it either, but he'll be fine. It might be good for him to focus on something other than what's happened."

Jack groaned. "You told him you didn't want to have Christmas? Angel told him that too?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, he did." Bobby nodded his head. "But it's okay. We'll deal with it, and so will Craig. You wanted a tree, you got one. This might be a good idea after all, getting into the Christmas spirit and all that bullshit."

Jack looked defeated, "Bobby, you know why I asked you if we could get a tree?" He closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them. They seemed to be filling with tears.

Bobby grimaced. "Oh come on you fairy, don't you be fucking crying on me now. I don't think I can handle another heart to heart about Ma, or the shooting, not right yet anyway, okay?"

"Craig needed it. That's why I asked." Jack drew in a deep breath.

Bobby looked surprised. "Jack, I asked him how he felt about having a tree, and he said he didn't really care. I honestly think he was being nice about not wanting do all of this."

"No, Bobby, he needed it." Jack shook his head. "He told me that before he came here, he'd never had a Christmas. He didn't even know what it was. You know what kind of things he must have thought when he first learned about Christmas?"

Bobby stared at the man. "You asked for Christmas, for Craig?" He still looked confused, but he seemed to be catching on.

"He never had a birthday either and you know what he told me?" Jack went onto explain to Bobby what Craig had told him. That when Evelyn had told him about birthdays he'd known then that no one had been happy enough about him being born to celebrate it. "Kids are told Santa comes when they're good. Hell Santa never came for him until he was here, what do you think he was thinking back then?"

Bobby squeezed his eyes closed. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me that before when you first brought up the fucking tree idea?" He cried out and looked at Jack.

"It was a private talk between us. I didn't want to tell you, I didn't want to destroy any trust he had with me. And don't you dare tell him I told you about any of it." Jack warned.

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "What else did he tell you?" He asked.

Jack shook his head. "I'm not sharing our whole talk with you." Jack shook his head, looking at Bobby closely. "You did yell at him, didn't you? You got pissed at little shit and took it out on him."

Bobby opened his mouth to deny it, but stopped himself. "I might have." He shrugged his shoulders again.

"I know how you are Bobby; you open your mouth and say shit without thinking. I let you know about it when you pull it with me, but the kid is fucking scared of you still. You get pissed and say shit to him that you shouldn't. You always have. You might not mean it, and the rest of us might know that you don't mean it, but damn, he don't. He's still getting to know you." Jack tried to explain.

Bobby sighed and pulled himself up to his feet. "Damn I screwed up." He muttered.

"Yep, you sure did big brother. So now what the fuck you gonna do to fix it?" Jack didn't try to hide the fact that he was pissed. His voice was full of annoyance. "I can't believe you didn't see that look in his eyes. It was the same look he had just after Mom's funeral. All closed off and holding everything in."

"I just figured he didn't want the tree, and didn't want to do Christmas. I thought he'd be okay after I had a chance to sit down with him alone and talk to him. Talking seems to be working with him. He's been better." Bobby started pacing the room, walking towards the dining room, and then turning and walking towards the coffee table.

"He had the shit scared out of him today. He's not always gonna have good days. You can't act like that with him Bobby, it's gonna keep him confused." Jack managed to speak a little more calmly.

"I can't change the way I act Jack, I am the way I am." Bobby stopped and looked at his brother.

"Bull shit. You've got that other side of you Bobby. You've shown it to me before, I know it's there. You've shown it to Craig; he's probably confused as hell right now. One minute you talk all nice and brotherly to him, and the next you're yelling at him for shit that don't amount to nothin'." Jack locked eyes with his older brother. "Bobby, it's okay when you act like an ass hole older brother with the rest of us, but man, right now, he's not looking at you as an older brother. He's looking at you like a parent, and you have to start acting like one with him. You can't treat him like a little brother any more, Mom's not here to do the parent part."

Bobby stared at Jack for a long moment, remembering the talk he'd had with his younger brother just a few weeks earlier in the front yard about trying to be a parent to the boy. "Shit." He finally shook his head. "I know that Jack, but I can't just change how I act overnight. I'm trying here."

"I know you are, but you have to try harder. You can't just yell shit at him when you're irritated. You need to make sure you're not cracking gay jokes around him, and whatever you do, don't start calling him your little sister." Jack's voice rose.

Bobby's mouth dropped open, "Oh my God, you sound just like Ma." He stared at Jack.

"Good, cause someone needs to keep you in line with him. You can't be the same kind of big brother to him that you were with the rest of us." Jack's voice was a little louder than it needed to be.

"I got the fucking point Jack. Give it a rest now." Bobby turned and walked around the coffee table, sitting back down on the couch. "I got it, okay?" He looked at Jack with a very serious look in his eyes. "I gotta act more like a parent with him, I know that."

Jack seemed satisfied that he'd gotten his point across. "Good."

"The kid doesn't know how lucky he is, me for a father, and you for a fucking mother." Bobby smiled and picked up the T.V. remote.

"Fuck you Bobby!" Jack picked up one of the throw pillows and threw it at the man.

Bobby laughed and caught the pillow easily. "Don't you wish Jack? Just because you're taking on the Mama role don't mean you need to take it literally." He looked at him and grinned.

"Screw you!" Jack spoke with irritation.

"Pillow talk won't get you anywhere with me Jack, I'm not gay. But I'm glad you're finally facing your own sexuality. I really am; I think you need to admit…" Bobby didn't get to finish his sentence before another pillow hit him in the face.

Both men stared at each other for a long moment before each of them smiled.

"I love ya man." Bobby tossed the two pillows back at Jack.

"Yeah, me too," Jack muttered as he caught the pillows and awkwardly stuffed them back into their place next to him. It seemed to have been a good talk as far as he was concerned.


	14. Chapter 14

Let me know what you think :)

Legal statement still counts

* * *

**Chapter 14: Groceries**

Craig followed Angel and Sofi up and down the food aisles of the supermarket. Evelyn hadn't gone to the large market too often, maybe once a month to replenish the mainstays of the house. She liked to buy from the smaller, local markets in the neighborhood, she said it kept the money in the neighborhood and kept the businesses open. Sofi and Angel talked about the meal that she was planning. The two of them did a lot of kissing as they roamed the rows of food. Craig stayed just far enough behind that he wouldn't get yelled at by Angel, but was a safe distance from the display of affection the two of them seemed to be unable to keep from demonstrating in public.

The boy was purposely keeping his mind from thinking about anything. If he started thinking the day's events would replay in his mind, and he greatly preferred not dwelling on his day. He looked at the canned goods as they walked through the aisles, and then at the flour and spices as they passed those. He wasn't paying much attention to what Angel and Sofi were doing or saying most of the time, and he didn't really know what items the woman was throwing into the cart Angel was pushing up and down the rows. He didn't really care.

The store was playing Christmas music and there were decorations in all of the food aisles, forcing the boy to struggle harder at holding down his emotions. His right palm started to itch and he stuffed his hands into his coat pocket so that he could scratch at the itch under cover. It was awkward reaching it, but his fingers curled inward and managed, though his palms turned hot and sweaty in the pockets.

Craig's pace was slower than Angels, and Angel didn't seem to be taking much notice of how far behind he was falling. Craig wasn't surprised. His brother was preoccupied with Sofi's backside most of the time, slapping at it periodically and both of them laughing about it. When they came to the large deli, Sofi starting rattling off to the young woman behind the counter all of the different cheeses that she wanted, and as she read off her list in her hand she realized she had forgotten onions. Craig managed to catch up to them before Angel could notice he'd been so far behind.

"Angel, go back and get my onions?" She looked up at the man as Craig reached the couple.

"Baby, I'm not gonna go back and hunt down the onions, I don't know what kind you want, and I don't know where the hell you'll be when I get back over this way." Angel shook his head.

"I need the ones with the red skins, and I will be right here." Sofi shook her head. "I have more to get at the deli." She pointed at the meats, cheeses and salads.

Angel sighed and looked back at Craig. "You can go get the onions for her, can't you?"

Craig nodded his head, "A whole bag?" He turned and asked Sofi.

"Yes, a whole bag, and maybe a clove of garlic." She nodded her head as she looked at him with a thoughtful gaze. "I don't think I forgot anything else."

Craig turned to walk away.

"I need two lemons!" Sofi called out just as the boy started walking.

Craig looked back at her. "Two lemons," He repeated so that she would know he had heard.

Craig walked through the store to the far side, closer to the entrance, where the produce was set up. He didn't rush, but he didn't want to get back to the deli and find Angel and Sofi had moved on either, so he was purposely trying to be too slow. He found the garlic and the onions with no problem, they were prepackaged. The lemons were sitting out in boxes, and had to be bagged up. He was struggling with the thin plastic produce bag hanging from the roller above the display when he felt a presence behind him. He didn't bother to turn and look; he assumed it was someone else looking through the fruits. He finally managed to get the bag, and then stared at the lemons for a long moment. He had helped his mother pick out melons before, and apples, but he couldn't remember a time when she had purchases lemons. He had no idea how to tell if one was good. He shrugged his shoulders and grabbed two of the yellow fruit and dropped them into the bag as he turned to head back towards the deli, only to find his self standing face to face with Anthony Miller.

The fourteen year old was startled and he knew Anthony could tell.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you Craig." Anthony smiled at him and shifted his stance from one leg to another.

"It's okay; I just didn't know you were there." Craig muttered. Anthony had a strange look on his face that Craig couldn't quite figure out, but it made him feel uncomfortable. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know, I almost just walked away, but I wanted to say 'hey'." Anthony looked tense.

Craig drew in a deep breath and nodded his head. He knew that Anthony had to know his brothers killed Stanley, and he had to know by the way Stanley died what the man had tried to do to him that night when his mother was killed.

"So, how are you doing?" Anthony asked. "You look good."

"I'm okay." Craig shrugged his shoulders. "How are you?" He knew that the older boy had been living with Stanley before, and he wondered where he was living now, who was taking care of him. Part of him hoped that being free of Stanley would give Anthony the chance to turn his life around.

"I'm cool. Got me a place to live, and got some work, so I'm making some money." Anthony nodded his head.

"Anthony, I'm sorry about Stanley." Craig muttered, though for the most part he was glad the sick ass hole was dead.

"Don't be." Anthony shook his head. "I'm not." He drew in a deep breath. "If Stanley were still alive, I'd still be a worthless teenage gang banger. You'd be surprised what kind of changes can take place in just a couple of weeks." He let a sly smile slip across his face. "It's okay Craig, trust me. I'm doing better now than when he was alive."

Craig drew in a shaky breath. "Okay." He wanted to believe his old friend, but there was something about the tone of Anthony's voice that was sending warning flashes into his brain.

"You are too, aren't you?" Anthony asked with a knowing look on his face. "Your brothers are taking real good care of you, aren't they? Watching out for you and keeping you safe?"

Craig wasn't sure how to answer that question. "Yeah, they're watching out for me." He spoke quietly, not wanting to know the meaning behind the older boy's words. "They're my brothers."

"You haven't been to school, so when you thinking on coming back?" Anthony asked; his expression was one of someone keeping a secret at least that was how it felt to Craig.

"After the holidays," The younger teen muttered. "You're back in school?" He asked, referring to the fact that Anthony hadn't been around school much for a very long time. The first time he'd seen and talked to him in over a year was at the ice rink the day Bobby had dragged him out onto the ice to find reasons to yell at him and tell him he wasn't any good. That thought brought back the aching in his chest.

"I've been givin' the readin', writtin', 'rithmatic thing a chance a few times a week. Gotta stay in school for the most part or I'll end up back in Juvi'." Anthony grinned. "Since I have a job I only go half a day, so it's not been so bad."

Craig felt his heart fill with a little hope, "You out of the gang?" He asked, knowing the tone of his voice gave away his hope that the man would say yes, he had separated his ties with the hoods that were dragging him down.

Anthony shook his head. "It's harder to get out of a fucking gang than it is to get into one kid." He sighed and his grin faded. "Don't worry though; I'm working on some things. The gang ain't so bad; we've cleaned up our act a little, got a little class so to speak." He spoke slowly, as if he were hiding something, and the sound of his voice sent chills up the boy's spine, something that had never happened with Anthony before.

"I gotta go, Angel's waiting for me." Craig spoke quietly, suddenly wanting to get as far away from his former friend as he could, and be closer to Angel where he would be safe.

Anthony nodded his head and smiled. "You can't keep your brother waiting, can you?" He sighed. "I know how older brothers get when you piss them off." He turned and started walking towards the exit of the store.

Craig watched the older teen walk through the double wide glass door, and he couldn't help but feel as if he'd just been 'cased', the way crooks 'case' a potential target to rob. He kept his eyes fixed on Anthony through the glass, and watched him walking across the parking lot, to a rusted out Dodge Neon and get in on the passenger side. He couldn't make out the features of the driver, and he didn't really want to. He had a bad feeling hit his gut and he couldn't really explain why.

The boy watched the Neon drive away before heading back to the deli counter at the back of the store. He wasn't surprised to find that Angel and Sofi had already finished there and were nowhere in sight. He walked down the main row, looking down each aisle, until he found them. He walked up to the cart and placed the items he'd been sent to retrieve inside with the rest of the food. He noticed oysters in the cart, and wondered why they would get those, but he wasn't about to ask when he looked up the two to find them kissing. He looked around the items on the shelves, and realized they were in the health and beauty section. He cleared his throat loudly.

Angel startled and pulled away from Sofi. "Damn kid; don't be sneaking up on us like that!" Angel reached out with his hand and dropped a box he had been holding into the cart.

Craig looked at it, and noticed KY on the front of the box. He didn't bother to read any further, not caring to know what his brother might have planned for that particular item. "Are we done yet?" The boy asked a louder than he needed to, but he wanted to get out of there and get back to the house, where he could shake the uneasy feeling running into Anthony had brought on him.

"You just keep quiet, and stay patient. We're almost finished." Angel gripped the handle of the cart and started pushing it towards the dairy wall of the store.

Craig followed, letting some distance develop between him and the sex addicts in front of him. He wished that Bobby had let him stay home, though at the time, he'd thought it was a good idea to get away from his oldest brother. He was angry at him and didn't want to be around him. He felt his mind try to bring back his thoughts about his brothers, and Mr. Jordan, and managed to force it back down, though the itch returned to his right hand again. He shoved both hands into his pockets and resumed the scratching in private.

He watched as Sofi gathered sour cream, butter, cottage cheese and buttermilk. He made a face at the thought of the buttermilk. Sofi then announced they needed to go to the frozen foods.

"We were in the frozen foods fifteen minutes ago. What did you forget now?" Angel sounded irritated.

"Oh, trust me baby, this is going to be worth the trip back." Sofi cooed at the man.

Craig rolled his eyes and looked away as Angel gave her a smile and the two of them whispered quietly to each other, their faces almost touching. He glanced off to one side to see another teenage standing next to the milk, glancing over at them from time to time. He seemed more interested in the couple than the milk, and at first it embarrassed the boy, until he thought he recognized the face one of the times it turned towards them. The boy's eyes flickered over towards Craig, and that was when the youngest Mercer was able to place him. He didn't know a name, but he knew he'd seen him on the streets around the school, where the same gang colors as Anthony.

The fear in the boy's gut overpowered the anger he'd been feeling towards his brother, Angel included, and he walked up to the man. "Angel." He spoke quietly as he grabbed Angel's coat sleeve and pulled on it.

"What the fuck?"Angel looked down at the boy.

Craig glanced back towards the milk, but the gang member was gone. "Angel, I…" He looked back up at his brother, ready to tell him he'd seen Anthony, but the man didn't give him the opportunity.

"Kid, you need to settle down. I know you want to go, I do to, but we got a few more things to get first." Angel sounded irritated with him, which wasn't surprising.

"But I…" Craig stopped himself that time. His brother wasn't going to listen to him; no one ever listened to him. Things were going back to normal pretty quick, and he felt his heart ache slightly at that thought, until his resolve returned and he managed to push that ache back down to that place where he couldn't feel it. "Sorry." He muttered and pulled back from the man.

"Come on, there is just one more thing." Sofi started walking towards the frozen foods section.

"Baby, you said that five 'things' ago." Angel called behind her and looked at Craig, sighing heavily. "Come on." He started pushing the cart in the same direction Sofi was walking.

Craig followed silently, but he kept his eyes searching for anyone else that he might recognize from Anthony's gang. He was thankful that he didn't see anyone else. The kid from the milk didn't show up again either.

Finally Sofi was heading to the check out. Of course Angel was mumbling under his breath when he had to pull out his own wallet to pay for the cart of food.

Craig told himself he would feel better once they got to the car, and he did. By the time the groceries were loaded in and they were pulling out of their parking space, he was thankful he hadn't mentioned his fears to Angel. He told himself he was being paranoid, just as he had been with Mr. Jordan. After all it was Anthony, and Anthony had always watched out for him. He would have looked like an idiot, and Angel and Sofi would have both been pissed at him if he'd spoken up and it ended up being his imagination. Then Angel would have told Bobby, and Bobby would have been even more pissed.

* * *

Adam Macks looked over at Anthony as the Mercer car drove past the lot of the drugstore. Moments later the back door of the car opened up and the other kid, Dwayne, climbed into the seat. Nothing was said right away. Adam pulled held up a roll of large bills and held them out towards Anthony. "You keep an eye on him for me Tony. I know you're having it hard right now, this should help." He smiled.

Anthony took the bills and glanced back at Dwayne before looking at Macks. "You're sure they're the ones who killed Stanley?" He asked weakly.

"I know they did." Macks laughed. "You ain't really cryin' for your big brother though, are you?" He asked, his raspy voice cracking with the last few words of his question. "Stanley didn't do right by you, I know that. Now I'll do right by you. But you gotta keep doin' right by me." His mouth formed a wicked grin and looked down the street at the retreating car.

Anthony reached out and took the money from the man.

"That's right. They may have freed you from that hell you knew as your brother, but no one else has bothered to take care of you the way I have, now isn't that right?" Macks gave Anthony a sideways glance. "You keep your boys working hard, and we'll all make a pretty profit from it, and that includes you."

Anthony allowed his own stare to turn in the direction the Mercer car had just gone. "Yes sir." He spoke quietly and stuffed the cash into his shirt pocket.

"You can get close to him, he trusts you." Macks nodded his head; he didn't have to say more, the plan had already been discussed a hundred times with his new 'employees'.

Anthony showed no signs of emotion. He didn't respond to the man's words, he just stared straight ahead.


	15. Chapter 15

Legal stuff still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 15: Good News**

Craig helped carry the groceries into the house when they got home. He was starting to help Sofi put the items away when Bobby walked into the kitchen, grabbed his arm and pulled him through the house to the living room. He didn't know what he'd done, but he had the feeling Bobby was pissed at him. He let his heart turn to ice instantly, to keep it from feeling whatever hurt was about to come.

Bobby pushed him down onto the couch next to Jack and stood in front of him with his arms crossed across his chest.

Craig looked up at him. "What?" He asked weakly, waiting for the worst.

"I'm sorry." Bobby spoke quickly, glancing at Jack and then back to Craig, sounding nervous as he spoke. "Okay, I'm sorry. I fucked up and got upset and took it out on you." He glanced at Jack again, who was scowling at him hard.

Craig felt confusion rush at him instantly. "What?" He looked over at Jack and then back up to Bobby. Then it hit him, Jack had told Bobby things. He would have had to for the man to be acting like that. The ice around his heart spread quickly to his entire chest. He hadn't thought Jack would repeat anything that he'd said to him, though he hadn't really asked the man not to, he'd just assumed that Jack would keep it between them.

"I said I'm sorry." Bobby's tone changed a little, sounding calmer, not so anxious.

Craig didn't try to respond to the statement. He didn't want this. He didn't want Bobby to tell him he was sorry. He was getting tired of the tug of war that seemed to be going on inside of him, and it was easier to turn off all of his feelings and not let any of it bother him.

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "Man, I yelled at you, and I'm sorry. I wasn't pissed at you Craig; I was just in a pissed off mood, okay?" Bobby's voice grew quiet. "I didn't mean it. I was wrong," He glanced at Jack quickly again, and then returned his gaze to Craig. "I said shit, but I didn't mean it."

Craig let his self slouch down into the cushions of the couch, but didn't respond to the man.

"Kid, you have to keep in mind that I have a short fuse, and I tend to lose it with the people I care about the most because I know they understand I don't mean it most of the time." Bobby drew in a deep breath. "It's hard to change the way I am, I mean, I've invested a lot of fucking years into my bad attitude, it's taken a lot of hard work and beating the shit out of people to get to where I am today."

Bobby sounded so serious that Craig almost found the statement amusing; almost, but not quite. "Sure." He muttered.

Jack's scowl deepened. "That's an apology?"He asked. "Bobby you gotta do better than that man." He shook his head. "That was just pathetic."

Bobby shot Jack a quick look that wasn't the most pleasant. "You watch it little brother or I'm liable to start yellin' at you." He spoke normally.

Jack looked at Craig. "He's trying, he really is, he's just not too good with apologies; he never has been."

Craig looked at Jack, wanting to ask him why he ran his mouth to Bobby. He decided not to waste his breath or his time. He just wouldn't trust Jack again, about anything. He didn't know what all Jack had told Bobby, but he knew he had too have said something. He nodded his head in response to Jack's words, not really caring if Bobby was apologizing, it wasn't as if he were going to let his emotions trap him again, he'd fallen into the same trap too many times recently to risk it again.

"Hey, I'm right here." Bobby spoke up, drawing Craig and Jack's attention back to him.

Jack laughed, "Hell, you always think you gotta be the center of attention Bobby?" He asked.

"Well I am the one saying I'm sorry, now ain't I?" Bobby spoke sarcastically. He focused on Craig, "I really am sorry. I can't promise it will never happen again, but I'm trying." He spoke seriously. "Okay?"

Craig swallowed hard and nodded his head, not wanting to actually speak to the man at the moment.

"I might have been out of line earlier kid, but I still expect to hear a response from you when I talk to you." Bobby sounded calm, but his stare had a look behind it that Craig didn't want to even guess at.

"Okay." Craig muttered.

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "We'll talk more about it later, and I do mean we'll talk. Right now we need to get this house cleaned up so Jerry don't walk in here and start in on the mess. You do me a favor and take anything that's yours up to you room and get it put up, and then we'll do some dusting and sweeping."

Craig stood and walked around the coffee table to try to locate his sketch pad, since that was the only thing that was his that was downstairs besides his school books that were laying on the dining room table; and the box he'd retrieved from the garage earlier. Bobby grabbed hold of him and gave him a quick hug. It happened too fast for Craig to prepare for it, and he felt his body stiffen. Bobby felt it too, it was obvious from the look he gave him, but he let him go without saying anything.

Craig took his box of sketch pads upstairs with him as well as the book that held his most recent drawings. When he asked Bobby what to do with his school books he was told to go ahead and take them up to his room, just for the night so they would have room on the table. When he returned to the living room Bobby handed him a can of furniture polish and a dust rag. "Have at it." The man smiled at him.

Craig dusted the tables, the mantle and their contents, taking his time. He hated dusting, he always had, but it had been one of the few jobs he'd been given after all of his brothers moved out and he did it well, for the most part. Bobby was picking up other objects in the room that was out of place and going crazy with the glass cleaner. Angel got out the vacuum cleaner and started on the floors. Jack sat on the couch and supervised the operation while the house filled with the aroma of the dinner that was cooking in the kitchen. Sofi called for Angel a few times and he'd turn off the vacuum each time to go see what she wanted.

Craig thought it was stupid for him to come back grumbling and complaining about being called away from his chore to get a can off of the top shelf of the kitchen, since everyone knew that he loved having someone depend on him for something like that, and he would go running the next time she called for the very same thing.

Within an hour the house was Evelyn Mercer clean, and Craig was surprised it hadn't taken very long at all to get it that way. Most of the disarray had been clutter that had accumulated in each room. A lot of it was Jack's medical supplies, clothes, and necessities for bathing and other personal needs.

When they were done, Jack asked Craig to go up to his room and get him his guitar. "I always play Christmas songs when we decorate the tree. We don't want to ruin a family tradition, do we?" Jack asked. He hadn't had his guitar in his hands since he'd been shot. "It might be a good idea for me to practice a little before Jerry's family shows up."

Craig went up to Jack's room, feeling odd about going through the door. He'd never spent much time in any of his brothers' rooms. They never would invite him in when they were home, and he didn't dare go in if they weren't there. He got the instrument and took it back down to his older brother as Angel was walking back into the room from putting up the vacuum cleaner.

"You sure you want to trust him with that Jackie?" Angel laughed, jokingly.

Jack shot Angel a dirty look. "Shut the fuck up." He gave him an angry look.

"I'm just kidding, damn." Angel sat down in the chair in front of the fireplace.

Bobby had been walking in from the dining room, which was now cleaned and extremely compact with the table's missing section having been returned to extend it for the night's dinner. He walked up behind Angel and gave him a hard smack on the back of the head. "Well it wasn't funny." He sat down in the other chair, leaving only the free end of the couch for Craig.

The boy sat down as Angel shot a confused glare from Bobby to Jack. "What the fuck, I was just kidding around." He cried out.

"No more kidding like that." Bobby mumbled the words as he turned the chair so that he could see the television. "Jack, you gonna make some noise with that thing?" He motioned to the guitar in Jack's hands.

"It feels strange." Jack spoke quietly and shook his head, but he positioned the guitar as comfortably as he could and strummed a few notes.

Craig sat back in on the couch and looked at the T.V. He listened as Jack tried a few more cords, and slowly the melody of a song started to stutter out of the instrument.

Ten minutes later the front door opened and Jerry walked in carrying Amelia in his arms and Camille followed with Daniela's hand holding onto hers. The greetings were short, for the most part. Angel and Bobby spent several minutes talking to their nieces and teasing them playfully, but then Camille took them with her to the kitchen, saying something about the big kids having business to talk about.

Bobby gave Jerry a questioning look, "Business?" He asked once his sister-in-law had the girls out of the room. He motioned for Jerry to sit in the chair he'd been occupying and went to the dining room for one of the wooden chairs from the table.

Jerry had a wide smile on his face, and he looked from Angel to Bobby, to Jack, and then back to Bobby again. "I got the go ahead for my redevelopment project." He finally spoke after several seconds. "I'm back in business, I got my loan approved late this afternoon, and I'm all set." He started laughing before he got the sentence finished. "I'm back, and I'm stronger than ever!" He started bouncing up and down in his chair with excitement.

"Damn, Jerry, you're a regular giddy school girl there man." Bobby laughed at his brother. "Calm down and tell us about it." He leaned forward enough to give his brother a hard pat on the back. "Don't choke!"

Jerry was still laughing despite Bobby's teasing. "Man, I need crews, and I need…" He got suddenly quiet. "Man I need my brothers in on me with this." He spoke very seriously, but still had the smile on his face.

"Construction," Angel shook his head. "Hell, I ain't no construction worker Jerry, I…" Angel didn't have a chance to finish his rejection of the idea.

"No, Angel, you would be the office manager. You would be in charge of ordering the supplies, and scheduling the work." Jerry looked at Bobby. "Bobby here could be foreman, make sure the men keep working like they're supposed to and everything stays on schedule. And Jack, well he'd be in charge of the entertainment." He grinned as he pointed to the guitar.

"Very funny," Jack smiled, "What would my job be Jerry?"

"You'd be in charge of logistics man, making sure the materials got to the job site on time, and you'd take care of payroll." Jerry looked from one brother to the other again. "I can hire other people to do all of that, but man, I need my brothers. I can trust you, and anything you need to know about the job I can show ya' all." He sounded excited. "Besides, bank accounts are running low, ain't they? Each and every one of ya' all need work, why not work with me?"

Bobby sighed, "I don't know about working for family Jerry, I don't think that's such a good idea, you know how I am." He sat back in the chair with his legs sticking straight out into the center of the floor. Angel and Jack both started talking at once, agreeing with Bobby.

"No, no, no; ya' all ain't listen' to me. I don't want you to work for me; I want us to be partners here, a family business." Jerry spoke quickly, quieting the mumbles that were coming from Angel and Jack. "Split five ways, 'The Mercer Development Company'."

"Wait a minute; Craig ain't old enough to be working, why would he get a share?" Angel asked. "I mean, he should get a share when he's older, when he can pull his weight."

"Craig is a Mercer; he'd be just as much a part of this as any of us. His share can go into a trust, for college, and then he could go and study graphic design, or maybe engineering. He could come into the business officially when he's got a degree, and with his talent, we'll be unstoppable."

Craig listened while the conversation progressed. He hadn't been asked what he thought of the idea, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to go into the kind of art Jerry was preaching right then, but his other three brothers seemed to be pulled in by Jerry's words. They asked questions, and Jerry seemed to have an answer for each and every one of them. He wanted to put their main office in the same building as his redevelopment project, alongside the high profile businesses that would be housed there, and then have a secondary office and warehouse at another location. They were going to need trucks, and crews, and uniforms. Bobby shot the uniform idea down, but agreed to t-shirts with their name and a logo on them.

There was a moment of quiet and that gave Angel the opportunity to think, and that was not always the best thing to happen when he was around his brothers. His mouth formed a grin and he leaned forward in his chair. "Do we get secretaries?" He asked just as Sofi walked into the living room from the dining room behind him with a smile on her face. "Cause I know this really hot chick that would be perfect for my secretary. She can't type, but man she can take dictation."

The smile faded from Sofi's face as her mouth dropped open and her hand swung out hard against the back of Angel's bare head. The smack nearly knocked the man completely out of his chair. He jumped to his feet, turning to see his woman, the fire flashing in her angry eyes. Spanish filled the house as Sofi started slapping Angel in the chest.

"Baby, I was talkin' about you!" Angel cried out, but his voice could barely be heard over the woman's shrieking.

Bobby, Jerry and Jack were laughing at the sight, but Angel was ducking from the swats, and trying to talk louder over Sofi's voice.

Sofi finally walked past all four men, and Craig, to the stairs as fast as her feet could carry her.

Angel looked at his brothers for a moment and then ran after Sofi, calling to her the whole time that he wanted her to be his secretary.

The men laughed for a long minute about the situation Angel had gotten his self into, and there were comments made about the man needing to learn to hold his tongue about certain things, now that he was almost a married man.

Ten minutes later Angel and Sofi both came back down the stairs, smiling and acting as if nothing had happened.

Bobby looked at Angel as the man reclaimed his chair. "Oh, I see, a make-up make-out session and all is good." He smiled.

Angel ignored Bobby and looked at Jerry with pleading eyes. "Please tell me we get secretaries." He sounded genuinely worried at that moment.

Jerry could only laugh.

Camille came to the doorway next, and gave Jerry a look.

Jerry noticed her stare, and seemed confused by it, "Something wrong baby?"

"If Sofi can be Angel's secretary, then I'm gonna be yours." Her voice had a determined sound to it.

"Now dear, I never said any of us were gonna have secretaries." Jerry stood and followed Camille into the kitchen, giving Angel a dirty look as he walked past him.

The business talk continued over dinner as well, and Craig was personally tired of hearing about it. Bobby had made a point to sit him right next to him, and had filled his plate for him, but hadn't said a word to him since Jerry had gotten there and announced his big plans. In fact no one had included him in the conversation, and while he was thankful, he couldn't help but think of how typical that was of his brothers. Jerry explained what Robert Bradford and Green had done for him, and gave a detailed account of the hearing he'd been to earlier that day.

Dinner was good, but Craig couldn't help but think that it didn't feel like a meal that his mother would have prepared for decorating the tree. She wouldn't have gone all out with the turkey, not until Christmas day, but she would have made a roast, and there would have been decorations strung around the dining room. He tried hard not to compare this holiday with any from the past, but it was hard. He had wanted the time of the year to feel more like it had when his mother was alive, but it seemed to be getting further and further from it would have been like if she'd been there. He glanced down at the end of the table to where she normally sat, and Jerry was in her chair. It just felt wrong.

After dinner Bobby announced that the women cooked, they didn't need to be a part of the clean up. Now that did sound like something Evelyn Mercer would say. She had often said that the cook should never have to clean up the table or do the dishes and that it wasn't very polite to expect it, and her sons had always had the clean up detail.

Sofi and Camille went into the living room with the girls while Jerry and Craig started clearing the table. Angel and Bobby helped Jack walk back to the living room, Bobby cracking a joke about the women all going to the living room.

Craig wasn't surprised when he was assigned the task of washing the dishes. Jerry was going to dry, while Angel put them away. Bobby was in charge of washing the table, the counters and the stove and running the broom across the floor. The men agreed that with all of them working on it, it shouldn't take much time.

Of course it didn't take long for Bobby to feel the need for a beer, and he went into the living room to see if the women or Jack wanted anything. Jack wanted a beer, so Bobby came back for that. That was the last Craig seen of him in the kitchen, but he could hear the man in the living room playing with Daniela and Amelia. Angel was the next to wander off, claiming that he was going to use the restroom. He never came back either.

Jerry chatted with Craig a little, asking him how his doctor's appointment went, and how he was feeling. Craig gave him brief, quiet answers. Jerry asked him what he thought of his brothers starting up a real family business, and Craig just muttered that it was great.

Craig continued washing the dishes, even when Jerry remarked that it wasn't right that their other brothers seemed to have abandoned them. He put down the dish towel. "I'm gonna go find them and drag their sorry asses back in here." He grinned and walked out of the room.

Craig wasn't surprised when a moment later he heard a loud roar of laughter coming from the living room. He stared at the counter full of dishes that had been set down for Angel to put away, and the drainer full of dishes that Jerry had just left. His eyes shifted to the kitchen table filled with dishes that hadn't yet hit the water in the sink. He glanced at the back door, and wondered to himself if his brothers would miss him if he went for a quick walk. The sound of Jack's guitar started drifting through the house, playing 'Silent Night'.

He knew if he walked out the door it would just make matters worse. He wanted to go for a walk, and have a chance to think so bad that it almost ached. He sighed, dried off his hands and started putting away the dishes that Angel was supposed to be responsible for. He dried the dishes in the drainer and put each of them away, and then went back to washing.

Forty minutes later Craig had the dishes washed, and the kitchen clean and neat. He stepped into the dining room to wash off the table there and looked into the living room. The tree was mostly decorated. The boxes that had contained the ornaments were piled up on the floor, empty, and the girls were throwing the tinsel over the branches. His brothers were helping the girls, and laughing and joking. Jack was still playing his guitar. None of his brothers had come back. They had decorated the tree without him. Craig felt his heart tighten up. He knew it was stupid to let it bother him, he knew that. He was fourteen years old; the Christmas tree thing was for little kids, and he shouldn't let it bother him. He watched for a long moment, and then walked back to the kitchen, and out the back door.


	16. Chapter 16

Let me know what you think, and as always much thanks for reading!

Still don't own, still no profit...

* * *

**Chapter 16: Thinking**

Craig stepped out the back door and headed for the street. He'd made it half way when he stopped, turned around and walked back towards the house. He stood there for a second and stared at the back door before sighing heavily and sitting down on the steps. He wanted to take off on a walk so bad at that moment, but knew if he did there would be hell to pay when he got back. Bobby had gotten good at the ass beatings, though the one from earlier that day hadn't been nearly as bad as it could have been. He knew Bobby would be pissed at him for sitting on the steps too, but he didn't think it would warrant a stinging butt, or at least he hoped not. He needed the fresh air, and he needed to get his head cleared. He couldn't believe no one had come back to the kitchen and told him they were decorating the tree. He may not have helped to decorate it, hell he was sure that he wouldn't have, but they had just gone ahead and done it without him. They hadn't included him.

It was just like when he was little. He was feeling more and more left out. The tug of war was going on inside of him again, and he was trying hard to drive down the confused emotions that were struggling to overwhelm him. Part of him was telling him it was his own fault; he was the only person that had stopped himself from walking into the living room. He could have done just as his brothers had done and left the kitchen for later. He knew that he was pulling away from them, just like he always did, and he could stop putting the distance between them, it was his choice. The other part of him was arguing that any time he let them get close he ended up hurt. His brothers had their own lives, and they had their own responsibilities. They, particularly Bobby, didn't need him to be causing more problems with his stupid hurt feelings. They hadn't meant to leave him out, he was sure of that, but they had, and it was validating all of the insecurities that he already felt. He needed to bury his emotions, block them off and not feel them, and all of his problems would be solved. It made sense. If he didn't let it bother him, if he didn't turn it into more than it was, then it really didn't matter. He wasn't meant to be part of his brothers lives, and that's all there was to it. He knew they were trying, but it was never going to be any different, and he had to learn to live with that.

He might have to be in the house with them, but he didn't need to be in their way, he didn't need so much of their attention, he really didn't. He'd lived without it most of his life. He reasoned that they must have cared; they said they did, and they had been trying to include him, but he wasn't really one of them. He wasn't like them, and he didn't fit in with them. He should feel relieved that he hadn't been shipped off to God knows where right after Evelyn had died, like he'd been so afraid of them doing.

Despite his mind's reasoning, he was feeling alone, and hurt, and at the same time he wanted to kick his self in the ass for feeling so small, and acting like a little kid. He was old enough that the Christmas tree thing shouldn't have bothered him. He was old enough to take care of himself without his brothers having to be around all of the time. He had wanted a tree, and there was one there now, and everyone seemed to be doing okay with it despite the fact that no one else had been in the mood for observing Christmas.

He should feel glad, but he couldn't shake the heavy feeling that continued to hover around him and make him feel bogged down. The only thing that kept him from taking off down the street was the still sore ass he was sitting on, but he knew if he could walk he could reason it all out better in his head. As he sat out in the cool air, staring down the street, he started to calm down a little. He actually managed to talk himself into believing that it hadn't stabbed at his heart as much as he'd thought when he'd looked in to find the tree already decorated and every one gathered around it like a family. He'd been left out, but that really wasn't anything unusual, and he was too old to care so much about a stupid tree or stupid traditions anyway. They hadn't meant to leave him out, they just didn't think, and that was normal for them. It was something he'd thought had changed, but it was okay if it hadn't. He never should have expected more from his brothers. He probably didn't deserve more.

Maybe he'd been wrong about Jack asking for the tree for him. He had just assumed that Jack had done something for him, but maybe Jack had really wanted a tree himself, and Craig knew better than to expect things like that from any of his brothers. It was okay though, he was going to make sure he didn't expect anything more from his bothers than they could manage, and they would never change the way they felt about him, not really. They might try, and they might truly mean it when they say they loved him, and cared about him, but they would never be able to act any different with him. He had known that before and had made the mistake of feeling hopeful that they would really let him be a part of their family. He'd wanted that for so long. He had let himself feel closer to Bobby, depending on him to make everything alright, and really, Bobby had, for the moment. But now, who was going to make everything else feel normal again? He didn't think he would ever feel normal again in his lifetime.

He had thought everything would be just like in the movies, with a happy ending, and everyone being closer than they had been at the beginning of the whole night mare. His brothers seemed to have grown close again, like they had been when they were younger and still living at home, but the gap was still there between him and them. He was too different from them. He was too young to really fit in with them and no matter what they all said now, it wasn't going to get any better, it was going to get worse, and he knew that. They would all start drifting away again, and eventually Bobby would start leaving to go on trips and each time he left he'd be gone longer. The man couldn't stick around in one place very long, and he sure wasn't going to like being tied down to the kind of responsibility that he had been handed. Bobby would start to resent having to be there, and that realization would have been heartbreaking, if the boy were letting himself feel any of those emotions at that moment.

His brothers might all work with Jerry and act all happy about it for a while, but Bobby would get the itch to move on, and Jack liked his music, he wouldn't want to be tied to a desk. Angel might stick it out for a while, but he had Sofi, and they would be too busy with their own life together, just like Jerry was too busy with his life with Camille and his daughters.

That voice inside of him told him the same thing that it always did, that the easiest way to get past it was to just push it all back into the safe part of his mind, don't think about it, and don't feel those feelings. Just forget about all of it and deal with the day to day routine of not pissing Bobby or any of his other brothers off. Let them live their lives and not get in the way. Once school started it would be easier. He could hide away at school while his brothers went on with their lives and everything would be fine then.

The urge to stand up and start walking hit him again, and the temptation was hard to fight down. He didn't want things to be any more difficult than they already were, and he knew that if someone did come looking for him and he wasn't there then there would be hell to pay. Although Bobby would probably lose his temper just as much even if he was right there, on the back steps. It didn't seem to matter how minor the infraction, Bobby seemed to get just as pissed as he did with the big screw ups the boy presented him with. That sparked the realization that Bobby probably would beat his ass for sitting on the steps, and while part of him still thought about going for his walk since it wouldn't matter what it was he was caught doing he'd get his ass beat; the other part argued that if he went back in the house, he wouldn't get his ass beat for either.

He figured he'd better get back in the house before any of his brothers missed him, he'd calmed down enough by then that he did care if he was caught. Not only did he not want his ass beat, but he didn't want Bobby asking him questions. He was going to keep himself numb of the feelings that seemed to continue to bombard him, but he knew if Bobby got too interested in what he was feeling, then he'd push him to talk. If he talked, he couldn't hide his emotions, at least that was how it always seemed to work out. Bobby would get him to start feeling the hurt and the fear and he'd force him to admit it. He had to grow up, stop depending on any one, and stop expecting something that was never going to happen.

Craig stood and walked back into the house. He stepped quietly to the foyer, and looked into the living room at the girls, still laughing at their Uncles and decorating them with some of the left over tinsel. Angel and Bobby both looked ridiculous, sitting in the center of the floor with the shiny silver strands hanging off of their ears and across the tops of their heads. The adults were laughing hard as the men kept still and allowed the little girls have their fun.

Craig smiled slightly before he turned and walked quietly up the stairs to his room. He was glad the girls were having fun and getting to know their Uncles. They needed that time. The only Uncle they had ever really known was him and it wasn't as if he'd been all that much fun to be around, he knew that. He'd played games with them, and he had always loved to sit with them to draw and color, but Bobby, Angel and Jack were different. They would really play with them, something Craig had never been very good at. He left the door open, turned on his light and sat on his bed. He looked at the cardboard box sitting on his bed next to him. He thought about pulling the sketch pads out and going through them. He had endured one of Bobby's spankings to get those books; it didn't make any sense to not look at them now.

Maybe he would find the answers he was looking for in the pictures. Maybe he would be able to find the one thing hidden in the drawings that made it so easy for people to not care about him. There had to be something about him that drove people away. Everyone he ever cared about either hurt him, left him, died or ended up hurt. That was the way it seemed anyway.

* * *

Jack looked towards the stairs at the soft sound of footsteps. He drew in a deep breath and looked at Bobby who hadn't heard the boy going up the stairs. Jack closed his eyes and sighed quietly. He'd been so caught up in playing the guitar and watching the girls enjoying themselves decorating the tree he hadn't noticed that Craig wasn't there with them. He wasn't surprised Bobby hadn't noticed either, the girls seemed to have gravitated to the man and hadn't given him a moments peace since he'd come in and sat on the floor. This was supposed to be for the kid and he hadn't even come in to join them, to help decorate the tree. Why hadn't he come in from the kitchen? It had actually turned out to be a good time, and it had felt good to laugh and feel happy for a change; it had been what they had all needed really, but it had been Craig who had needed it the most, he knew that.

Jack kept his eyes close and was mentally kicking himself when Jerry reached out from his seat next to him and patted his arm, "Jackie, you feeling okay man?" Jerry asked.

Jack nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm just getting a little tired I guess." He smiled at Jerry.

"Yeah, we should get going." Jerry looked at his watch. "It's getting late." He looked at Camille who nodded her head in agreement.

They all stood and started getting the girls bundled up in their coats while Camille and Sofi chatted about the plans they had been making for Christmas day. The men were still talking about the proposition Jerry had presented to them earlier that evening, and it was agreed that the brothers needed a little time think about it.

Jerry finally looked around the room. "Where is Craig?" He asked.

Bobby's smile fell from his face instantly as he looked around the room. He turned to look at Jack with a question written on his face, but he didn't put it into words.

"He went upstairs. He must have been tired." Jack spoke quietly.

Bobby looked almost relieved at first, but then his jaw set, and he looked as if he were about to say something.

Jack shook his head, but didn't say anything. He was hoping Bobby would pick up on the message, and apparently he did. The eldest brother drew in a deep breath and let it out slow.

"Well, you tell him that we said goodnight. I'll call in the morning." Jerry gave each of his brothers a hug, taking extra care when he hugged Jack.

Minutes later the house fell mostly silent. Sofi turned to Angel and told him she was going to go get her shower, a hint of an invitation laced in her voice.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Don't you two ever do anything else?" He asked.

Bobby laughed at the look on Angel's face.

Angel shook his head and watched Sofi walk up the stairs. "Who needs anything else?"

Bobby looked at Jack. "He just went upstairs without saying a fucking word?" He asked, changing the subject abruptly, "How long ago?"

"Just a few minutes ago," Jack spoke quickly. "Don't get pissed at him. He's probably feeling like shit right now." He muttered.

"What do you mean?" Angel asked. "You two have to let me in on what the fuck is going on here." He sat down on the coffee table and looked up at Bobby.

Bobby glanced at Angel for a long moment and then looked at Jack. "That's your call Mama." He spoke calmly.

Jack drew in a deep breath. "I asked for a tree because Craig was kind of missing Christmas. He needed it." He looked at Angel, but then looked up at Bobby. "Why was he left in the kitchen?" He asked. "I thought you guys were all gonna come out here when the kitchen was cleaned, did you leave him in there to do it all by himself?" He was only guessing, but by the looks on both Angel and Bobby's faces he was sure he'd guessed correctly.

"I kind of got stuck out here with the girls; I figured they would all finish it up." Bobby admitted. Angel admitted that he had left Jerry and Craig in the middle of the work, and all three recalled that Jerry came out not too long after Angel, probably telling Craig he'd be back. Once it was determined that the three elder Mercers had ended up leaving the kitchen clean up half finished the rest was pretty easy to figure out.

"But why wouldn't he come on in when we never came back?" Angel asked. "I mean, he didn't even come in here at all, did he?"

"Well, I'm guessing that he was finishing the work and looked in here to see the tree being decorated without him." Jack looked up at Bobby.

Bobby nodded his head. "Yeah, Jack, I get it, I fucked up again." He muttered.

"No, not just you, all of us," Jack countered. "I didn't notice he wasn't in here. I mean with everyone in the house it was crowded, and the girls were having so much fun, I just kind of got caught up in all of it. He needed this and we all fucked it up."

It wasn't until that moment that Angel looked up at Bobby. "We were pretty hard on him today, weren't we?" He asked quietly. "Hell, I wasn't even thinking."

Bobby nodded his head. "Yeah, I know exactly what you are saying. Jack chewed my ass out while you guys were at the store, and when you got home I pulled him in here and told him I was sorry, but man I don't think he believed it."

Now it was Jack's turn to look surprised. "Well it's no wonder, the way you said it. If you didn't think he believed you why did you let it go?" He asked.

"Because I figured I'd do something different for a change and not push him. I was giving him some time to think about it and calm down." Bobby looked from Angel to Jack, his voice rising slightly. "I was trying to do the fucking parent thing that you were talking about."

"He wanted a tree that bad?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, man, he did." Jack nodded his head. "He never really asked for it, but he did want one."

"And we managed to fuck it up." Bobby turned and headed for the stairs. "Son of a bitch…Stupid fucking parent thing bullshit…" He muttered more words as he walked but they weren't audible.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked.

"I'm gonna do the fucking Bobby thing. I think I do that better," Bobby shot Jack a scowl before heading on up the steps.


	17. Chapter 17

Okay, I'm gonna put this one up but it's the last one for the day :) Thanks for the kind words all, and let me know what you think...

Disclaimer: Don't own, make no money, it's just for fun...

* * *

**Chapter 17: The Bobby Thing**

Craig carefully pulled each pad of paper out of the box, and looked at the date on the front cover of each. Evelyn had been sharp enough to date each one as they had been filled, before storing them away. The earliest of the pads of paper were mostly colored construction paper, and they had progressed from small pads to larger pads of real artists' sketch pads. He sat on his knees on the floor next to the bed and laid them out across the blanket, lined up by date, planning to start with the earliest and work his way up. He hadn't looked at his own drawings so much when he was younger. He would draw, turn the page and draw again, and never really look back at what he was emptying out of him mind. Evelyn would look through them, and she would seem to understand that he couldn't talk about any of them. But she understood the pictures, and what they meant to him.

He heard the commotion below when Jerry and his family started getting ready to leave. He thought that maybe he should go down to say goodbye. He knew there were going to be questions about why he was up in his room when they had company, even if it was Jerry and his family. He almost stood and headed down, but decided that if he went down now, the questions would come in front of everyone, and he preferred to get yelled at with as few people around as possible. Sofi came up moments after the commotion below quieted. She stopped at his door and asked him if he was okay. He nodded his head before she went to Angel's bedroom.

He returned his attention to the sketch pads. He had to move the box off of the bed to make more room. He had the books arranged just as he wanted them and carefully counted them. Fifteen pads of memories lay out in front of him. Three rows of five. He couldn't believe he'd filled that many pads of paper when he was small. His mother had stored more in the attic, but these were the first, and she hadn't wanted him going through them, he knew that. She had told him when she put them in the garage that she would hold onto them, but he had to let them go. He hadn't understood it then, but he was older now, and he understood more of what had happened to him when he was younger. If she had been there, he could have gone to her and asked her questions, and gotten the answers he needed from her, but she wasn't there. These were his books, his memories, and he had a right to look through them. He reached for the first one, the date on it indicating to him that he'd filled it not long after he'd been in the Mercer house. He didn't have a chance to pick it up before he heard the footsteps on the stairs. He turned and looked at his bedroom door as Bobby stepped up to it.

Bobby looked at the sketch pads covering the bed, and then looked at the boy. He didn't say anything for a long moment. "What the fuck you think you're doing?" His voice was unreadable.

Craig drew in a deep breath. "I was just going to look through some of them before I went to bed." He spoke quietly.

"Are you supposed to be wandering around from room to room without someone being with you, or being told that you can?" Bobby asked.

Craig knew it, he was about to hear it.

"You get your ass down these stairs right now." Bobby pointed with one hand in the direction of the steps.

Craig stood slowly, "Sorry, I didn't think." He muttered, hoping this wasn't going to be an ass beating, or a long session of being told how he screwed up. He took the few steps to the door as casually as he could, not wanting to look as if he were nervous.

"Bullshit, you thought, and you didn't give a fuck. At least be honest." Bobby gave him an irritated look.

Craig wasn't surprised when Bobby grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. When they got downstairs Bobby didn't take him to the living room where Angel and Jack were sitting, he walked him on through to the kitchen and let go of him. Bobby crossed his arms at his chest, and leaned back on the counter.

Craig stood in the middle of the room, not sure what Bobby was doing. Not sure what he'd done wrong besides going up to his room. Bobby drew in a deep breath and looked around the room. "Damn good job cleaning the kitchen." Bobby looked at the boy.

Craig didn't respond to the comment, he was sure something else was about to come. Did he miss something when he was cleaning the kitchen? Had someone seen him go outside? If Bobby were going to really chew him out for going up to his room he would have done that upstairs, he wouldn't have dragged him down to the kitchen.

Bobby's eyes narrowed down on the boy. "Why the fuck didn't you come into the living room? You knew none of us were coming back, didn't you? You had to know that not too long after you were left in here by yourself. You didn't bother coming into the living room at all." He shook his head. "I'm sorry I didn't realize that you were in here. I really am, I would have come in here and dragged your ass in there, but you have two fucking legs and you know your way from this kitchen to that damn living room, nothing stopped you from coming in there and spending time with your family." He sounded upset, but the tone was different than what Craig had expected. He didn't sound pissed, but more disappointed.

Craig shrugged his shoulders, "I just figured I'd…." He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence.

"You figured you'd disobey my rules? You figured you'd just go off and do what the fuck you felt like? No, I think you let your feelings get hurt because no one came in here and dragged your ass back to the living room to decorate the fuckin' tree."Bobby shook his head. "Ain't that right?"

Craig shook his head. "No." He muttered. He couldn't believe just how close Bobby was. He would have been right too if Craig hadn't pulled his emotions in and blocked them off so that he wasn't feeling them.

"Bullshit. You can at least be honest with me." Bobby looked around the kitchen. "I'm sorry I didn't realize you weren't in the room Craig, I really am. I wanted you in there. Didn't you want a Christmas tree? Because you know, Jack asked for one because he wanted you to have one. So you tell me right now why the fuck you didn't drag your ass into that room and join us."

He knew it. Jack had told Bobby shit. Shit that he'd thought was just between him and Jack. He hadn't asked for a tree, but he'd told Jack about how he'd never had a Christmas before Evelyn brought him home, and how it didn't felt like Christmas. He drew in a deep breath. "I never asked for a tree." He muttered, pushing the feelings of being betrayed by Jack down into that deep, fog filled pit where he couldn't reach them.

Bobby's eyebrows rose, "That don't answer my fucking question, now does it? You give me one good reason why you didn't say fuck it and come into the living room when none of us came back to the kitchen. Give it to me now."

"You wanted the kitchen cleaned up." Craig muttered.

"Yeah, and I said we would all do it together. I didn't say you had to do it all by your fucking self. You did it anyway. You was avoiding coming in there with your family, right?" Bobby nodded his head. "You talk about being afraid that we don't care about you, but you turn around and avoid us. You think that helps?" Bobby's voice rose slightly.

Craig was surprised by Bobby's words. "No." He muttered. "That's not what I…"

"You didn't even come in when you were done in the kitchen; you snuck your ass up to your fucking room to look at those books." Bobby nodded his head. "You want everything done for you? You want us to show you we care, but what about you showing us that you care?"

Craig was surprised by Bobby's words. He felt the confusion build. "I didn't…"

Bobby moved with no warning, pushing the boy back against the sink, and planting a hand on the counter top on each side of him, pinning him there. "You didn't what; you didn't mean it like that? Maybe I'm reading too much into your shit? Is that it?"

Craig opened his mouth to speak but didn't know what to say.

"Maybe you shouldn't read so much into what we fucking do or don't do, think about that." Bobby had his face directly in front of the boy's. He stared hard at Craig. "I'm not used to trying to make problems go away kid, and I'm learning as I go, you gotta give me some fuckin' breaks here; because I'm not perfect and I never will be. If you don't tell me what the fuck is going on in that head of yours I'm not always going to figure it out." Bobby finally spoke. "Didn't you want Christmas? Didn't you want a tree and the decorations and the family thing going on?" He wasn't yelling, but the frustration was growing in his tone.

Craig shook his head, "Bobby, it didn't really matter to me. I thought Jack wanted it, I didn't know that he …" He was sounding convincing, he knew he was; he was starting to believe what he was saying to a certain point.

"Stop the fucking lying to me!" Bobby's strained voice stopped him in mid-sentence.

"I'm not." Craig muttered.

Bobby started to say something else, but stopped himself. "Really, you didn't want Christmas?" He asked.

"I don't care if we have one or not." Craig shook his head, but his voice came out weak that time.

"Okay, then let's go get rid of the fucking tree." Bobby pulled back grabbed his arm and gave the boy a tug, pulling him through the front hall to the living room.

Jack and Angel had been talking quietly and stopped when Bobby pulled Craig into the room. Bobby let go of the boy and started grabbing the empty boxes. He handed one to Craig quickly. "Go on; start taking the shit off of the fucking tree."He spoke quickly. He turned and tossed one of the boxes to Angel, who was still sitting on the coffee table.

Angel caught the box and looked at Jack before standing up and turning to face Bobby. "What the fuck are you doing?" He asked, sounding shocked at the man's words.

"He don't care if we have a Christmas tree. He don't care if we have a Christmas, period. So, since none of us really wanted one to start with, I say we take this thing down, drag it out back and smother it with gas. I'm ready to burn it." Bobby almost sounded cheerful.

"Bobby that's stupid." Jack spoke up.

"No, having a tree in this house when none of us wanted one to start with is stupid." Bobby looked at Craig."Get your ass moving and get the shit off of the tree." His voice rose slightly.

Craig felt his body tense up as he looked at the tree. It looked perfect, with the decorations and the blinking lights. It looked as if Evelyn Mercer had done it herself, placing each ornament in its appropriate place. The red bulb with Bobby's name at the top, Jerry's green one right below it, slightly to the right, then Angel's blue one to the left, with Jack's purple one below it, and Craig's yellow one below Jerry's. Evelyn's white diamond shaped ornament with her name in silver in the center. She had arranged them all the same way every year, and they had to be set perfectly. They were too, they had been hung just where they were supposed to be. The silk covered bulbs with pictures and years noted on them were arranged in the correct order all around the tree. The handmade decorations that had been gifts from her sons from school from various times were all there. The only thing on the tree that didn't look the same was the string of red and green peppers that wrapped around it several times, and the tree skirt that had been placed beneath it wasn't the one that Craig had made. He looked back at Bobby. "It's up, why take it down?" He asked weakly.

Bobby stepped past the boy to the tree and started pulling the other bulbs off, the plain glass bulbs of different colors. "If none of us want the tree why should it stay up?" He didn't turn to look at Craig as he dropped the bulbs into the box he held in his own hands.

Craig watched and the feelings he'd been holding in tried to well up inside of him. He pushed them down, fought to keep control of them. He couldn't let the hurt out; he couldn't let his brother see that this really wasn't what he wanted. He tried to make his feet move, to step up to the tree and start pulling the decorations off, but they wouldn't cooperate. His legs wouldn't take that first step, and although he was fighting down the emotions that were starting to churn inside of him, he felt tears stinging at his eyes, something that he mentally scolded himself for. He couldn't cry, that would tell Bobby that the decision to take down the tree really did bother him. He couldn't let his brothers keep making decisions because of how he felt. They couldn't live their lives around his wants, it wasn't fair to them. That's what he was silently telling himself.

Angel dropped the box in the chair next to the record player. "This is bullshit Bobby." He walked over to his oldest brother and grabbed his arm.

"No, what's bullshit is getting a tree when no one here really wanted one to start with." He looked at Craig again. "You don't want it, right?" He sounded calm, and didn't look angry at all.

"Bobby, stop it." Jack spoke quietly.

"Shut up Jack. This is Craig's call, no one else has a say in it." He kept his gaze on the boy. "You want this tree?"

Craig looked down at the empty box in his hands.

"You said something to Jack that made him think you wanted this. Now I don't know what it was, but he was set on you having a Christmas this year. Isn't that right Jack?" Bobby spoke calmly, glancing briefly at the younger man on the couch before looking back at Craig. "So you tell me what you want, really, right now. This bullshit is gonna stop. If you tell me you want this tree it will stay. I can't read your mind you know. I can't figure out what the hell you're thinking all of the time kid. There ain't gonna be no more fucking badgering you until you tell me the truth. You gotta start making some effort here. Unless you tell me you want this tree, it's gone." He shook his head and turned back to pull more ornaments off of the branches.

Angel grabbed for Bobby's arm again. "I want the fucking tree." He spoke quickly.

"So do I," Jack spoke and tried to stand. "Stop it Bobby, just stop." His balance waivered and he was about to fall.

Bobby dropped the box he'd been putting the ornaments into and he and Angel both reached out to catch Jack. They eased him back into his place on the couch.

Craig felt his heart jump nearly out of his chest. He thought for sure Jack was going to fall and end up hurt, and it would be his fault because he wouldn't just tell Bobby he wanted the tree. Just like it was his fault Jack had gotten shot to start with, no matter what the man had said before, he knew it had been his fault. His fears seemed to explode inside of him, flooding every thought and vibrating down to each and every nerve.

He dropped the box on the floor while his older brothers eased Jack back onto the couch. Their attention was focused solely on Jack, and Craig was grateful for that because instinct drove him to turn and walk through the dining room, to the kitchen and to the back door. He was on the street and running hard before he realized it. He wasn't even sure why he was running. He couldn't get his feet to move before, but now it seemed he couldn't get them to stop. He didn't want to run away from his brothers, he just didn't want to feel so damned confused any more. This wasn't same as when he ran from the store either, he was in control of his thoughts; he wasn't running blindly out of pure fear. He was running to escape the fears that were trying over take him.


	18. Chapter 18

Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading :)

Legal statement still counts :)

* * *

**Chapter 18: Bullets VS Dynamite**

Bobby gave Jack an angry frown. "You don't try to stand up by yourself, you stupid fairy." He spoke more out of relief that he and Angel had caught the younger man rather than anger. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He shook his head as he stood straight, releasing his hold on Jack. "You want the damn tree that bad, then fine, you can have the tree, I was just trying to get the kid to admit he wanted it." He turned to where Craig had been standing, "Son of bitch!" He heard the back screen door slamming shut. "Craig!" He took off at a run, nearly tripping himself as he tried to go across the top of the coffee table rather than around it.

Angel was already on the move, ahead of him, out the back door just as he was reaching the kitchen. He watched as Angel ran down the street in pursuit of the boy. He dug into his pants pocket for his car keys, digging them out just as he reached the driver's door of his Cutlass. He got in, started the engine, and then backed out onto the street, pointing the car in the direction Angel was running, and he hoped Craig was also running. He gunned the engine, but the car didn't speed up the street, it gurgled and sputtered, dying at his fingertips. "Fuck!" He yelled as he pounded the steering wheel with both fists. At that moment an old rusted out Neon drove passed his car on the street, its horn honking incessantly as it passed. He was about to get out of the car when the strong odor of gasoline burned at his nostrils. He sniffed a second time, and a 'hissing sound' reached his ears as the smell of sulfur seemed to mix with the gasoline fumes with a sickening result. He moved to open the door but noticed a wire running from the handle down out of view under the car seat.

He wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but he knew he was fucked. He was really fucked. He didn't stare at the wire long before he rolled down his window, and pulled both feet up onto the seat. He sprung himself out of the car window, hitting the icy street, and rolled himself into the snow at the curb. He lay there, looking at his car for a long moment, his arms held up to his face as if to shield himself from harm.

Nothing happened. Damn, now he felt like a real fucking idiot, laying in the street for no good reason. He sighed, pulled himself up to his feet and started to take a step towards the Cutlass. He'd seen the wire, and he'd been sure the car was rigged to blow. The smell, the wire, it wasn't anything unfamiliar to him, he'd just never found it in his own vehicle before. He'd never been much for rigging cars to kill people. He'd been known to torch a few cars in his day, but he'd never burned one with an actual person inside. His guts twisted as the thought that someone had rigged his car to blow. Maybe it hadn't worked right; maybe it was a warning to scare the shit out of him. He wasn't sure.

He looked back to where his car had been parked and could see round sticks laying on the concrete. Shit. Shit. Someone had been out there. Someone had been in the process of rigging his car to blow and they'd been interrupted, surprised. They'd been caught off guard by Craig running out the door. He looked back down the street in the direction Angel had run after Craig, the same direction that Neon had gone. He prayed to God Angel was the only one running after the kid. He looked back at the house. Jack was still there, alone. He couldn't leave him there alone, not now. Not if there was someone around rigging their cars with bombs. He fought with making one of the hardest decisions he'd ever made. He ran back to the house, and straight to Jack.

Jack looked up at him. "Did you catch him? Where is he?" He looked past Bobby as if he expected to see Angel and Craig. "Bobby, where…"

"Angel's going after him." Bobby walked over to where the cordless phone was laying on the stand next to the television. "Jack, looks like our problems won't let up." He dialed the phone quickly.

"Bobby what are you talking about?" Jack asked.

Bobby walked on through the living room, to the foyer and got into the closet, all the while holding the phone to his ear. He pulled the plastic tote out of the back of the closet and bent down to open it. He picked up two of the guns it held, kicked the lid closed with his foot, and then used his foot to slide it back into the closet. He walked back to the living room and stood in front of Jack. The whole time he listened to the phone on the other end of the line ringing.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jack sounded worried at the sight of the guns.

"We got problems." Bobby muttered as he handed a gun to Jack. "That's loaded, you be careful with it."

"Where are Angel and Craig? What the hell is going on?" Jack asked in a strained voice.

"Someone was rigging my car to blow." Bobby reached his hand up to the phone and was about to disconnect when a voice finally answered.

Bobby looked tense as he kept his gaze on Jack. "Green, we gotta problem." He spoke stiffly.

* * *

Craig had an idea of where he was running to this time. He wasn't running in any random direction. He was heading to the end of the street, where the street made a sharp left turn, like an L, two blocks down, to the old building that used to house a motel with condemned signs all over it. It had been closed down over a year ago, and it was literally falling apart. The roof had caved in six months ago and it was supposed to have been torn down because it was so dangerous, but it still stood because the city never did anything on schedule. He'd gone into the building a couple of times, on the few occasions that Evelyn had given in and let him roam off alone, to get away from the house. The last time she'd found out where he'd been somehow and he'd gotten the talk about how it would kill her if anything happened to him. He'd ended up feeling so guilty that he'd pretty much grounded himself, and had promised that he would never go back inside again.

"Craig!" Angel's yells echoed in the streets behind him. He tried to pick up his speed, but his left foot was hurting. He hadn't put that much pressure on his foot since he'd lost his toe, and it was starting to hurt. He could hear Angel's own feet pounding on the pavement as he got closer.

Craig was half a block from the motel when his entire foot seemed to cramp up on him and he had to stop or he would fall. He came to a complete stop next to a tall oak tree and held onto it while holding his foot up off of the ground.

Angel caught up to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him on. "Don't fucking stop, we ain't alone!" He yelled at him.

It was then that Craig realized there was an old Dodge Neon coming towards them up the street. He nearly fell as Angel pulled him on down the street. He grabbed Angel's arm and did his best not to slow his brother down, but it was doing no good, the cramp that started in his foot was moving up the calf of his leg.

The sound of automatic weapons blasting cut through the night air. Angel diverted their direction and dove with Craig behind another large tree. He pushed the boy into the tree, his body pressed into his back while the trunk of the tree just above their heads seemed to explode in all directions.

"Angel!" Craig screamed out.

Angel looked at the abandoned building to their left, just across the street. "We can make it to that building Craig." He placed his head down to Craig's ear. "You hear me? You gotta run you ain't got no choice." The shooting seemed to stop, at least for the moment.

Craig's ears were ringing loud. He was still processing what was happening. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He muttered.

"Apologize later, after I beat your ass for running out of the fucking house!" Angel was speaking rather calmly considering their situation.

"Who is it?" Craig cried out, the tears starting to streak the fear etched into his face.

"How the hell should I know?" Angel yelled as the Dodge drove up the street just a few feet, closer to them, changing their angle to the tree. The man growled deep in his throat as he could see the aim from the car was lining up directly on him and Craig, as well as blocking their escape to the building. "Fuck!" He glanced back up the street in the direction they had just come, and then to the empty lot directly behind them.

Craig did the same as Angel, trying to see what was around them, and where the car was. He looked across the street rather than behind them, to the empty lot there that had been littered with junk piles. "Angel?" He pointed carefully with one hand.

Angel looked at the lot across the street, cattycorner from the abandoned motel. "We'll never make it, not if you can't run." He muttered. He drew in a deep breath. "I can draw their attention. Can you get to that building if I do?" He asked calmly.

Craig managed to turn his head enough to look at his brother. "Don't leave me alone, please?" He asked weakly.

Angel looked at the boy and seemed to be able to sense the fear rising in him. "Fuck." He shook his head. "Okay, okay, think Angel. Think." He muttered to himself. He carefully pulled the boy around the tree enough that they were both under the cover of the trunk again, and the Neon continued to slowly gain ground up the street, turning as if it were going to turn up street that met up with the dead end where the motel had been. "Okay, if they keep moving that way, we might have a shot." The man leaned down enough that he could pull Craig's left arm over his shoulder and around his neck, hanging onto the boy's wrist to keep him there. "You hang on, and be ready 'cause I ain't gonna give you no fucking warning when I run." He whispered. "If I get hit, you keep your ass moving, I don't care how hard it is or how much it hurts, you got that?"

Craig nodded his head slightly.

"Don't you fucking nod your head at me, you answer me." Angel breathed hard.

"Yeah, I got it." Craig muttered. He felt Angel's right arm snake around his waist and hold onto him tight.

Craig held onto Angel's right arm with his own right hand, and braced himself for the man to start running. He felt Angel tense up, start to stand and moved towards the street, but at that moment headlights came up the street from behind them. "Angel!" He yelled, worried that his brother didn't see them. The beams of the car's lights looked familiar, but Craig could only glance at them for a second before Angel was pulling them both back, turning Craig face first into the snow bank heaped up around the curb, and landing on top of him. The guns from the neon blasted with several bursts, but then ended with the ugly sound of metal grinding against metal, screeching, and then the sound of an explosion. Craig felt his heart racing, and turned his head just as Angel lifted himself off of him. The Neon was in flames, and the back end of a very familiar Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme was visible in the same flames.

"Bobby?" Craig barely got the words out.

"Angel!" Bobby's voice from the other directly drew both the man and the boy's attention away from the burning cars. Bobby was running towards them in the shadows, out of reach of the few lights lining the opposite side of the street, a gun in his hand.

Angel stood, pulling Craig up with him. He kept his hand around Craig's waist, helping him to limp back up the street in Bobby's direction.

Bobby reached them, clapping a hand on Angel's shoulder, "You okay Angel?" He asked quickly.

"I'm good." Angel nodded his head. "Baby brother here managed to fuck up his foot." He spoke sarcastically.

Bobby reached over and grabbed Craig's arms, pulling him away from Angel's hold. "You're in one piece, no bullet holes?" He asked quickly while checking the boy's body for any signs of injury.

"I'm okay." Craig muttered.

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "You fucking shit!" He pulled the boy into a hard hug, "Don't you dare ever run out on us again!" He held him hard for a long moment before looking up the street. "Come on; let's get back to the house." He let Craig out of the hug, but he and Angel both grabbed hold of an arm and walked him back up the street towards home.

"What the fuck happened to you Bobby, where the hell was you? You were right behind me." Angel muttered.

"I thought I'd be smart and grab the car to chase this boy down." Bobby's grip tightened up on Craig's left arm slightly. "The car died on me, and I discovered it was rigged, or almost rigged to blow up."

"A bomb," Angel sounded doubtful. "Right, someone took the fucking time to try to rig a bomb to that piece of shit you called a car." He shook his head.

"They were interrupted when Craig bolted on us. He took off runnin, and they had to hightail it out of there because I jumped in the car." Bobby shook his head. He let a cynical laugh slip from his throat. "The kid might have just saved our lives by trying to run like that." He looked down at Craig as they continued walking. "That don't mean you ain't getting the ass burnin of your life after we talk to the fucking police." He warned.

"Police," Angel moaned. "Damn it, I'm sick of fucking cops. So what took you so long Bobby?"

"I seen the car drive past, but I had to make sure Jack had some protection. I called Green too, and reported the car stolen." Bobby turned and looked at the fireball still burning at full force behind them. "My baby," He muttered, almost with a whine. He sighed. "I got to you as soon as I could." He explained that he'd had to prime the carburetor with some gas to get the engine to start, and then he'd grabbed some left over bricks from rebuilding the front porch. He'd driven the car as close to them as he could without the headlights, jammed the bricks in place and jumped from the car just after turning on the headlights.

Angel looked over at Bobby. "You didn't rig the steering at all? That thing could have come right at us and killed us!" He cried out. "Damn, how did you know it was gonna go where it did?"

"I know my car. She pulls a little to the left, and I knew how close to get her before I jumped. I wasn't aiming to kill nobody, I just wanted to fucking distract them and get your asses out of there." Bobby's voice rose slightly, "What the fuck you complainin' about? You're breathing ain't ya?"

"I don't understand why it blew like that." Angel shook his head, looking behind them at that inferno.

"That might have been the piece of dynamite I picked up from the driveway and tossed into the passenger's seat." Bobby shrugged his shoulders.

"Dynamite," Angel cried out.

"Yeah, but I left the other stick in the drive." Bobby nodded his head. "The cops will need to find that and think they're fucking smart enough to figure out some one rigged my car and stole it to use as a bomb."

"Man, how you gonna explain this shit to the cops?" Angel pointed behind them at the flames that were still sending an orange glow clear down the street.

"I ain't. I told Green what I found, and I told him we had a problem. He said it sounded screwed up, and he said he'd call my car in as stolen. He knew what the fuck I was gonna do." Bobby answered.

Both men were quiet for a long while, until they neared the house. "By the way, I get to beat this kid's ass first. You can have him after I'm done with him." Angel looked over at Bobby. "I got shot at."

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "Well I lost a fucking car." He challenged. "Besides, I'm his legal guardian."

"You lost a rusted out, beat up piece of shit." Angel countered.

"You didn't get shot, just shot at. I had to jump from a moving car." Bobby glanced down at the boy, who was still limping, and sniffing back at tears. "Considering he got shot at too, maybe we can let him get by with just one ass beating; that is if he answers the fucking question I asked him." He redirected his gaze to Angel.

Angel sighed. "Well, that might get him out of my ass whippin'." He looked down at the boy. "I guess giving him two would be a little extreme, considering he did get shot at right alongside of me."

Craig didn't look at either man, he was feeling confused by all that had happened in such a short time, and he wasn't really sure what question they were expecting him to answer. He just wanted to get back into the house where he would feel safe. He didn't care if all four of his brothers took a turn as beating his ass; he just wanted to get inside.

"Well?" Bobby pulled the boy to a stop as they reached the back door of the house.

Craig looked up at Bobby, the confusion obviously written all over his face.

"Do you want the fuckin' tree or not?" Bobby asked.

Craig swallowed hard and nodded his head. "Yeah, I want the tree." He muttered.

Bobby sighed."Shit, we gotta get shot at and blow up cars to get you to answer one simple question?" He put his arm around the boy and walked him up the steps ahead of Angel.


	19. Chapter 19

Wow, thanks for all the great reviews everyone! Thanks for reading :)

Legal statement still stands...

* * *

**Chapter 19: Random Violence?**

When they got in the house Bobby pulled Craig through to the living room, where Jack was sitting with a gun in one hand and the phone in the other. "What the hell happened?" Jack asked, watching Craig limping under Bobby's guidance.

"Bobby just blew up half the fucking block." Angel walked on through to the bottom of the stairs, "Sofi!"

Bobby sat Craig down on the free end of the couch and gave him a frown. "Don't you ever walk out of this house on us like that," His voice was quiet, but the tension seemed to be growing inside of him.

Craig swallowed hard, leaning over to hold onto his leg. Now that he was inside, in the warmth, his body suddenly felt cold, and his arms and legs started to shiver.

Bobby sat down on the coffee table, directly in front of the boy and pushed him back into the couch. "Let me see that." He muttered as he grabbed hold of Craig's leg and pulled it up into his lap. "I cannot believe you did something that damn stupid." He shook his head and kept on muttering under his breath.

Sofi came down the stairs at that moment, and Angel started telling her to pack some of her clothes up. The argument was predictable, with Sofi not understanding why she had to leave, or what was going on.

"Look, woman, I don't want you getting hurt. It might be nothin, hell, it's probably just some fucking street gangs out playing stupid games, but I don't want you around here where you can get hurt!" Angel managed to get some words in, between the Spanish cursing that seemed to be spitting out of Sofi.

Bobby gave up his own cursing under his breath, obviously because he couldn't hear his own words over Sofi's, and carefully slid Craig's shoe off of his foot. He started rubbing at the bottom of Craig's foot, and the around the back of his ankle, slowly working out the cramping that had taken hold of the leg.

"Would someone tell me what happened?" Jack spoke loud enough to be heard.

Bobby looked over at Jack. "Did you get a hold of Jerry?" He nodded at the phone in Jack's hand.

Jack shook his head. "No, I don't think they made it home yet."

"Did you try his fucking cell phone?" Bobby's voice rose slightly.

"Yes, but it went straight to his voicemail." Jack cried out. He gave Bobby an irritated look. "What happened out there?" He asked, pointing the gun in the general direction of the dining room.

"Put that thing down!" Bobby reached out and carefully pulled the gun out of Jack's hand, dropping Craig's foot back to the floor as he did. "What are you doin' waving that shit around? You're gonna get one of us killed." Bobby sighed heavily as he checked the gun closely, and proceeded to unload it. He stood slowly and walked to the closet to put it back into the tote.

Craig held his arms tight to his stomach. "I don't feel too good." He muttered, not to any one in particular, but more as a statement of fact to himself.

"Have the cops called back yet?" Bobby returned and sat back down on the table.

Jack nodded his head. "Green did. He's on his way. He said he was gonna send a cruiser around to Jerry's too, and check in on him." He finally shared.

"Try calling him again and you keep calling him until he answers. I don't know if this shit means anything, but I damn sure want him to know about it." Bobby looked back at Craig again, and picked his foot back up. "If you ever run out on us like that again, I swear to God I will break both of your legs, do you understand that?" He looked as if he were about to lose any control he had at that moment. "You won't have to worry about any fucking cramp." He held the foot up and started working on the muscles again, working his way up the calf of the leg.

Angel was now pushing Sofi up the stairs. "Just go pack some things; I want your ass out of here tonight. Not in the morning." He was speaking loud, but the yelling seemed to have died down to a low roar.

The cramping was easing off quickly now, and Bobby started bending Craig's leg at the knee, and the pulling it out straight. "That better?" He asked.

Craig nodded his head. "Yeah," He muttered. He lifted his gaze up to Bobby. "I'm sorry." He muttered.

"I don't think you know what sorry means, yet. You're gonna be sorry when I'm done with you though." Bobby leaned forward. "What the fuck were you thinking?" He asked; his voice had that yell hidden in the calm tone.

"I don't know, Bobby, I'm sorry." Craig choked back at the sobs that were twisting up in his chest. "I don't feel too good." He leaned forward quickly.

"You gonna throw up?" Bobby asked quickly.

Craig nodded his head slowly, afraid to actually say anything.

Angel walked into the living room at that moment, and looked at the youngest Mercer. "Shit." He grabbed the waste paper basket from next to the desk and thrust if forward just in time.

Craig's stomach emptied what was left of his dinner, just as Angel got the basket in front of him.

"Awe, Jesus…" Angel nearly gagged and turned away, as Bobby held the basket with one hand and rested a hand on the back of the boy's head, waiting for him to finish.

"His nerves," Jack muttered, holding the phone to his hear as if he were listening.

Bobby glanced at Jack. "Ya think?" His voice sounded sarcastic. He looked down at the boy, "You done?" Bobby asked in a calmer tone of voice than he'd been using.

Craig nodded his head but didn't look up or sit up. He couldn't make his body move at that moment. His throat was constricting, and his vision was blurring from the flow of tears that was suddenly erupting.

"Is any one going to tell me what happened?" Jack asked.

Bobby let Craig stay where he was and looked at Jack. He drew in a deep breath and quickly filled Jack in on what had happened after he'd left him.

Jack looked confused. "So, do you think someone was out to blow your ass to kingdom come?" He asked quietly.

"I don't know. Those guys were gunning for Angel. I don't know if they were gunning for him because they thought he was someone else, or if it was because he was a Mercer." Bobby looked over at Angel. "Maybe we're being paranoid here. Maybe it's just like he told Sofi, some gangs are out there getting their rocks off by stealing people's cars and rigging them to blow." He looked back down at Craig and closed his eyes. "Or it could be that someone is trying to get revenge for what we did to Sweet." He sighed and moved his hand from Craig's head to his shoulder, and made him sit up. "I'm pitching this." He stood and walked out of the room with the basket.

Angel finally turned to look back at the fourteen year old, and the recovering Jack. He let his gaze fall on Jack. "Ya know, maybe it would be better if we found a place for ya' all to stay for a while, maybe with Jerry?" He suggested.

Jack pulled the phone away, hung up and then hit redial. "Hell no," He looked at Angel. "Don't worry about me; I can take care of myself. And you really think Bobby's gonna let Craig out of his sight for one second after this?" He raised his eyebrows at Angel. "He was letting up on him before now he's gonna have him on the fucking ball and chain." He looked down at the boy, who still hadn't sat back up. "Besides, if this is a Mercer revenge bullshit thing, what makes you think it'll be any safer at Jerry's than here? He is a Mercer ya know."

Angel looked over when Bobby walked back in. "Man, what now?" He asked.

"Now we tell the police what little we know, and get some information from Green." Bobby looked at Angel, and then at Craig. "No matter what, none of us left this house, and none of us got our asses shot at. You got it?" He looked back at Angel.

"You know I got it." Angel looked down at Craig with a questioning expression.

"Oh, don't worry, he don't talk to no fucking cops." Bobby shook his head. He walked around the coffee table, resuming his seat on it. He rested his hand on the boy's shoulders and eased him up. "Okay, look at me." He sounded calm.

Craig looked up at the man, but he wished he could curl up into a ball and disappear at that moment.

"Calm down." Bobby leaned forward and let the boy rest his head on his shoulder, "Just calm down."

Craig drew in a shaky breath and swallowed hard, but it did nothing to ease the tears.

"You gonna puke on me?" Bobby asked quietly.

Craig shook his head. "No." He muttered.

"You listen to me close. No matter what is going on, you can't just up and run out of here. I love you kid, and I can't keep you safe when you do shit like that. You understand?" Bobby let his arms ease around the boy in a hug.

Craig swallowed hard again. His throat was starting to feel raw from fighting down the tears, and yet the tears wouldn't stop.

"You've had a pretty shitty day, ain't you?" Bobby rubbed the boy's back gently.

Craig could feel himself being drawn into Bobby's safety, and part of his brain was screaming to him that he was letting himself fall into the same old trap. The other part of his brain was telling him that he didn't care; he wanted to fall into that trap. He wanted his brother to take care of him. He liked it better when he felt he could talk to Bobby, and be honest with him, and tell him how he was feeling. He didn't want to be afraid, and he didn't want all of the insecurities bombarding the inside of his brain constantly with no way to get them out.

He let his arms grab onto Bobby. "I was scared." He muttered.

"I know you were; guns do that to a lot of people kid." Bobby obviously didn't understand the words.

"No, before," Craig cried into the man's shirt. "I was afraid."

"What were you afraid of? Are you talkin' about that freak Mr. Jordan? It's okay. You need to follow your instincts with people, I told you that." Bobby kept his voice quiet, but he was looking at Jack, who was still trying to reach Jerry.

"No!" Craig cried out.

"What are you talking about then?" Bobby spoke quietly into the boy's ear.

"I don't' know, everything." Craig wasn't sure how he could explain it to Bobby.

"Jerry!" Jack called out as apparently Jerry finally answered. "No, man, we've been trying to call you."

Bobby reached out and snatched the phone from Jack, easing Craig back onto the couch again, and then standing, "Jerry, where in the fuck are you?" He asked quickly, and then seemed to be listening for moment. "Okay, you listen to me; don't take Camille and girls home." Bobby went on to explain what had happened. He took a quick glance at Angel, and then at Craig once his little speech about the car bomb, and the car chasing Angel and Craig with guns shooting was over. "Yeah, they're both fine. Craig's shaken up, but you gotta expect that. No, I don't want you coming here." He paused for a long moment. "First thing you need to do is get Camille, Daniela and Amelia out of that damn car and check it to see if anyone has screwed around with it." He listened again for a long time. "I don't care, just check it. It might be random shit, we know that, but after what's gone down in our family over the past few weeks, you really want to fuck with your family's safety? I don't."

Craig's heart seemed to speed up at Bobby's words. His brothers were thinking this could be random? The fourteen year old knew it wasn't random, he was certain of it, but he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason for feeling that way. There was something he'd seen, or heard that he couldn't quite pin down in his confused state at that moment, and it reeked of someone being out there purposely trying to harm them.

Bobby looked from one brother to another. "Jerry, this is not the time to be a hardheaded son of a bitch, that's my job. You just check your car. You check it good." He pushed. "Because you stupid shit, it was parked out here with our cars. We got the cops headed our way, and my car is toast two blocks away. If we hadn't interrupted them I would be calling you from the moon." His voice rose. After a long moment of quiet he turned and walked towards the dining room, his voice growing quiet.

Jack reached over to Craig. "Hey, kid, you're okay." He let a hand rest on Craig's shoulder.

Craig just nodded his head. He was starting to calm down a little. He could hear faint sirens in the distance outside, and he was sure the police were finally on their way. He looked at Jack but didn't try to say anything. His mind was starting to regain some control, and actually thinking about the events of the last fifteen minutes. It had only been about fifteen minutes since his legs had decided to run. It had only been fifteen minutes since Bobby was pulling the Christmas ornaments off of the tree, telling him that it was up to him whether or not the tree stayed or not.

His mind started replaying the events of those fifteen minutes, slowing them down, and his mind scanned his memory for anything that he should have picked up on, trying to remember each and every detail. He felt as if he were missing something. There was something that he'd seen, or heard, or felt that he was certain was important. He looked up at the man who was now pacing in and out of his view from the dining room to the kitchen, still talking on the phone with Jerry in a quiet voice. Bobby would have been killed if the job on his car had been completed, and that thought gave his heart a hard twist.

He looked up at Angel, who was looking in at Bobby, paying attention to what the man was saying to Jerry. Angel had risked his life for him, keeping himself between him and the bullets, and he hadn't left him. He hadn't been left alone to try to run to the building by himself. Craig had asked him to not leave him, and he hadn't. He'd stayed with him, despite the fact that the Neon had them trapped.

Dodge Neon, old, rusted out. His mind flashed the picture of the same car sitting in the parking lot of the store as he had looked out at Anthony through the doors. Anthony had gone right to it. That's what he had been missing. He'd seen the car, that very day, at the grocery store, after his unsettling encounter with Anthony. He knew it was something that he had to tell his brothers, but at that moment there was a knock on the front door, and when he let his mind come out of his thoughts, the red and blue flashes of the lights of a police cruiser were dancing around the walls of the living room.

Bobby walked from the dining room as Angel moved to answer the door. Bobby looked down at Craig, "We do the talking, and you keep your mouth shut, no matter what." He sounded calm.

Craig nodded his head and looked up as Angel walked back into the living room, leading in two uniformed officers. One of the men looked very familiar to the boy, and he stared at him for a long moment while he was trying to place him in his mind. He was an older man, and looked out of place in the uniform. It wasn't until he pulled his gaze from his face and down to his name tag that he knew who he was, and his blood ran cold with the memory of his previous 'talk' with this man. Though the first time he'd met him, he'd been a detective, wearing a suit and tie. Officer Higgins.


	20. Chapter 20

I might not get another chapter up for a couple of days, work seems to be getting in the way :( But let me know what you think, and as always, thanks for reading and the reviews!

Legal statement still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 20: Anthony Related?**

Craig froze in his seat on the couch. He let his eyes drop down to look at the edge of the coffee table. Higgins had scared the shit out of him before. He was a liar, and he liked to use tricks to get people to say things that they didn't want to say. He could hear Bobby and Angel talking with the two uniforms standing in the living room. The other officer introduced himself as Officer Johnson. Craig glanced up at Higgins to find the man staring at him. Higgins didn't say a word; he just pulled his heavy coat closed in the front, hiding his name tag.

Johnson seemed to be doing most of the talking with Bobby. Higgins was holding a notepad in his hand, and seemed to be writing things down. Craig's mind was zoning out on him, he couldn't hear what was being said, only the faint sound of the voices. His mind was back in the hospital, lying in his bed, watching Bobby being hauled out of the room in handcuffs. Higgins had tried to ask him questions, and when he didn't answer him, he had told him he was calling Children's Services, and the Craig would never see any of his brothers again. The panic and fear that he'd felt that night seemed to be flooding back in on him now. The intensity of the memory was probably so strong after all that had happened since that night in the hospital. Though he knew it was just a memory, and Green had told him every word Higgins had said had been nothing but bullshit, he still couldn't stop his mind from feeling those same fears. He'd freaked out that night, he knew that. The nurses had come in and had to sedate him. He hadn't been able to keep control of anything that night.

Craig dropped his gaze back down to the coffee table, trying to block out the presence of the man who had made his nightmare in the hospital worse than it had to be.

"Dynamite you said?" Officer Johnson spoke with a hint of surprise in his voice. The word brought Craig out of his thoughts, and broke the concentration he'd been focusing on Higgins.

"Yeah, man, you need to come out here and take a look." Bobby cocked his thumb towards the kitchen, ready to lead the men out the back door. He did lead them as far as the dining room.

"You go on Hank; I'll stay in here and get the rest of the statements." Higgins spoke casually.

"You can question us outside just as easy as in here, but Jack there didn't see anything, he can't get off the couch. Craig didn't see anything either." Angel spoke quickly. "Me and Bobby were in the kitchen, we were the only ones that seen anything."

Pounding on the front door drew everyone's attention to the front of the house. Angel walked past the officers and to the front door. Moments later he was leading Green into the house. Green looked down at Craig and smiled. "Hello Craig, Jack." He nodded towards Jack next. "How are you doin'?" He asked with genuine concern.

"We're both doin' fine Green." Jack grabbed hold of Craig's arm and gave him a tug towards him.

It was then that Craig realized he was visibly shaking. He let his body move closer to Jack and let the man slip his arm around his shoulders. He didn't lean directly into him; the drainage tube was in the way.

"You can take your other shoe off Craig." Jack spoke quietly to the boy as Angel led Green towards the dining room, where Bobby was waiting with Officers Johnson and Higgins.

Craig heard Jack's words, but his stare was fixed on the men in the dining room. He could see the smile drop from Green's face instantly, and the Detective turned and looked at Craig for a moment before looking at Higgins again. "Get your ass out of this house." He pointed to the front door.

Higgins looked slightly shaken by the order. "What?"

"You aren't going to investigate shit on this call Higgins. What did I tell you before? You already got your ass busted down in rank for your stupid ass stunt, and you sure as hell ain't gonna come in here and put any one else through any more bullshit. Now get the hell out of here." Green didn't yell, in fact his voice was calm. "Johnson, take your partner out of here please? You can meet me around back." He looked at Johnson.

"Yes sir." Johnson looked surprised, but didn't question the Detective's order. He motioned for Higgins to walk ahead of him.

"Higgins?" Bobby spoke up at that moment. "Detective Higgins, you arrested me at the hospital." He looked into the room, it Craig's direction. "You ass hole, you put my brother into shock with your bullshit stories!" He made a move towards the man before Johnson could walk him out of the room.

Angel and Green both grabbed Bobby, holding him back. "Bobby, man, calm down." Angel called out. "That ain't gonna help."

"Bobby, I got this, okay?" Green spoke loud. "I'm getting him out of the house, and he won't be back. That's a promise."

Johnson followed Higgins through the living room and out the front of the house. Craig didn't look up at the man as he walked past, he shifted his gaze back to the coffee table. Bobby didn't try to follow when Angel and Green released their hold on him, but he walked to the couch and sat down next to Craig. "You okay?" He turned on the couch so that he could look at the boy.

Craig nodded his head.

"He won't be back, that's a promise." Bobby looked up at Green, who was standing in the dining room doorway with Angel. "Who the hell sent him here?"

"I don't know. But he won't be back." Green shook his head. "I thought he was working day shift, or I would have specified that he not be dispatched on this call." Green sighed. "Look, I know it's very little consolation, but his stunt at the hospital did get him down. Twenty years on the force and he's back in a fucking uniform. Let's get out back and meet Johnson before the call comes in that your stolen car is part of the inferno up the street."

Angel gave Green a suspicious look. "Green, why is it you're doin' all this for us, if you are such a straight cop?" He asked.

Green laughed and looked up at Angel. "Hell, I'm a good cop; I just got lousy taste in friends." He laughed for a moment and looked at Angel's frown, and then over to Bobby's scowl. "Look, I don't like half the men on the force as it is. You don't think I know half the cops in Detroit are dirty?" He leveled his gaze on Bobby. "I am doing what I think is right, that's all." He shook his head. "If there is someone out there gunnin' for you I want to catch them myself, and put them in jail, but if we gotta do this discretely, then I'm willing to do that. I don't want anyone else hurt."

"You think Higgins was working for Sweet?" Bobby asked quickly, glancing down at Craig.

"No, actually, he is one of the few that I suspected of it that turned out clean. But there's something going on with him, and I can't put my finger on it. I'll keep him out of this investigation. Man, we gotta get out back before Johnson, and before they ID your car." Green spoke quickly. "They got the call, and the fire department is putting out the blaze right now, as we speak. It won't be long."

Bobby nodded his head and looked at Craig. "You stay here with Jackie, and you don't move. Got that?" He moved to stand.

Craig grabbed a hold of Bobby's arm harder than he meant to, pulling him back down. "Bobby…" He started to say.

Bobby looked at him, "Craig, I'll be back soon. I promise."

"I saw the car before." Craig muttered the words quickly, and he knew that his voice wasn't coherent.

Bobby frowned. "What?" He leaned closer to the boy.

Craig swallowed hard. "I saw that car, before, at the store." He looked directly into Bobby's eyes, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice.

Bobby stared at him for a long moment. He glanced over at Angel with a questioning expression on his face.

"I didn't see that car at the store, man; I would have remembered that piece of shit." Angel shook his head and stepped further into the room.

Green followed Angel. "Craig, did you see who was in the car?" Green asked.

Craig swallowed hard and kept his gaze on his brother. "Anthony." He answered as new tears welled up on him. "He came up to me in the store." He muttered.

Angel looked shocked. "What?" He cried out.

Bobby shot Angel a dirty look. "Did you let him out of your sight when you took him with you?" He cried out.

"No, man, I…" Angel squeezed his eyes closed. "Damn, yes I did." He shook his head. "I wasn't thinking, and had him go back to get some potatoes." He seemed to just remember. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't think there would be anything to worry about in a grocery store, I mean it's not like we knew we had anything to worry about."

"We'll talk later." Bobby growled the words quietly. He looked back at Craig, "Anthony who?" He didn't seem to remember Stanley's younger brother for a moment, but then a look of realization spread over his face, "Miller. The sick fucker's little brother, from the ice rink." He nodded his head, but then looked confused. "I thought you said he was okay?" He asked the question carefully.

Craig nodded his head. "He was before. But he gave me the creeps in the store." He muttered.

"He did?" Bobby nodded his head. He looked up at Green. "Well?"

"I'll have to run a check on him in the system. Do you know if he has a record?" Green pulled a pad out of his pocket and quickly wrote down the name.

"Oh hell yes," Angel nodded his head. "Craig hasn't been allowed to hang with him for a long time now. Ma didn't want him around that boy; he's no good, in a gang."

Green sighed. "You know, it could be that good ole' Anthony heard about what happened to his brother, and even though we all know you guys had nothing to do with how Stanley died, he might have figured you did, for whatever reason, and thought he'd get some revenge of his own." His voice took on a sarcastic tone.

Bobby nodded his head. "That does make sense." He muttered, but he didn't look convinced.

"Listen, we need to get this taken care of outside. Come on. We can pick up with this after, once the report has been filled out." Green spoke quickly.

Bobby nodded his head and placed a hand on each side of Craig's face. "I gotta go outside for a little bit. You got more to tell me when I get back?" He asked.

Craig nodded his head. "Yeah," He barely got the word out.

"Good. You stay here with Jackie, and you get your other shoe off, you look like some fuckin' street urchin sittin' there with one shoe on and one off." Bobby teased, and forced a smile. "It's okay, just calm down and sit here with Jack." He pulled Craig forward and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, and then pushed him back, closer to Jack, who automatically slid his arm back into place across his shoulders.

Craig let Jack pull him a little closer, but still not into his tube. He rested his head to his left, against Jack's shoulder and didn't watch his brothers walk out of the room.

Once the three men had left, Jack cleared his throat loudly. "What did Anthony say to you?" Jack asked.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing wrong," He muttered. "He just didn't act like Anthony." Craig went onto tell Jack what the older boy had said to him. "It wasn't what he said, it was the way he said it Jack. It scared me." He drew in a deep breath. "When he left, I watched him through the door and he got into an old beat up looking Dodge. I know it was the same car that was out there tonight." Craig tilted his head up and looked at Jack. "After Anthony left, and I got back to Angel, I seen another guy from Anthony's gang. He was close, and he didn't come over, but he just kept looking at us."

"Why didn't you tell Angel?" Jack sounded confused.

"I tried to, but he was too involved with what Sofi was doing." Craig admitted. "I figured I was being paranoid. I mean, it was Anthony. He's my friend."

"I don't think so kid. I think he's your worst enemy right now." Jack muttered.

"I don't want him to be. I like him Jack; he was good to me before. After you moved out, he walked me to school, and he'd hang out with me." Craig wiped tears away from his cheeks.

"I wish I could say something that would make it better kid, but it's looking like Anthony's trying to get someone back for his brother." Jack shook his head.

"But he didn't even like Stanley. He was glad he was dead." Craig muttered. "He even said so."

"Craig, no matter how pissed you get at Bobby, do you ever want him dead?" Jack asked.

"No!" Craig sat up slightly, looking Jack directly in the face. "But Bobby's never tried to do things like that. Stanley did stuff to Anthony, and he…" He felt more tears falling, and reached up to wipe at them.

Jack was quiet for a long moment, giving the boy a chance to clear his face of the tears, though new ones were quickly replacing them. He finally pointed down towards the boy's feet. "Get your other shoe off, and pull your feet up on the couch. Lay back and relax for a few minutes." He suggested calmly.

Craig did what Jack instructed him to do, without arguing. Jack placed one of the throw pillows against his leg and let Craig rest his head on it. They were both quiet for a long time, and Craig was about to drift off into a half sleep when the back door slammed hard, vibrating through the house. The fourteen year old started slightly, pulling his head up from the pillow just as Bobby and Angel walked into the room.

Bobby sighed and looked at Jack and Craig. "They just called Green down to the other end of the street. They pulled two bodies out of that car." He spoke quietly. "Apparently they were kids, maybe seventeen. They think they were gang members, and it seems the cops are chalking this up to a street war."

Angel sat down in the chair in front of the fireplace and leaned forward, resting his arms on the top of his knees. He looked at Craig. "You tried to tell me something in the store, didn't you?" He asked the boy quietly.

Craig looked at Angel, but didn't try to answer the question when the man obviously already knew the answer.

"Okay, kid, spill it," Bobby took up his position on the coffee table. "Tell me what the hell happened at the store." He sounded calm.

Craig sat up on the couch and swallowed hard. He started talking, and none of his brothers interrupted him. He repeated what he'd told Jack, and explained how Anthony had made him feel uncomfortable for the first time since he'd known the older boy. He didn't leave out any detail.

Once he'd said everything, Bobby reached out and took a hold of both of his shoulders. "You know we love the hell out of you, right?" He asked.

Craig stared at Bobby, and after a moment he nodded his head slightly. "Yeah, I know." He spoke the words with a shaky voice. He did know. No matter how much he'd doubted it earlier, and how strong the fears were, when it came right down to it, he did know that his brothers loved him.

"Okay, because I love you as much as I do, no matter what the hell you're feeling right now, I have to take you upstairs and give you twenty. You know why?" Bobby asked quietly.

Craig stared at the man for a long time, thinking about the question, and the words that Bobby had said to him earlier, about not being able to keep him safe if when he ran out on them. He nodded his head slowly and fought down the icy rock that was forming in his gut, "Yeah."

Bobby stood slowly, pulling the boy up to his feet. "Angel's gonna take care of getting Jackie tucked in all nice and warm." He shot Jack at smirk, "So you and me got all night to get this sorted out and taken care of." He kept his voice quiet. "Say goodnight to your brothers, and let's go."

Craig did what Bobby told him, saying goodnight to both Jack and Angel before Bobby took a hold of his hand and pulling him towards the steps. Sofi came down the stairs carrying two bags just as Bobby and Craig reached the bottom of the steps. Angel stood and met Sofi in the living room while Bobby pulled Craig on up the stairs.

Bobby walked Craig to the restroom, ran water into the bathtub and had Craig strip and get into the water before leaving the room to get his clothes.

Ten minutes later Bobby had him out of the tub, and was applying the last of the cream for him. Bobby let him put on his underwear before sitting on the commode and making him lay over his lap. The twenty swats he got were hard and, his skin was already sensitive from the hot bath. Craig was crying hard long before Bobby counted out twenty. Bobby stood with him and let him finish dressing before walking him to the bedroom that had been their mother's, Craig was still crying, and the man sat on the bed, pulled Craig down onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him. "You listen to me close, because this is promise, not a threat. The next time run away from me, or leave this house without permission, or without one of your brothers with you, I am going to take a belt to your backside and by the time I'm finished you wont be able to walk for a week. I'm not gonna trust you for a long fucking time Craig. I'm not saying that to be mean, but damnit, I can't trust you if you don't trust me, and you obviously don't trust me too much. I thought we were getting past that, but he aren't, are we?" He didn't demand a response from the boy, wich was a good thing, Craig couldn't answer at the moment, the tears were too strong. He let Craig cry until the tears started dying slowly.

Bobby moved Craig onto the bed and made him get in next to the wall. "I still got my shower to get. Don't you move from this bed. I'll be back soon enough." He walked out of the room.

By the time Bobby came back, Craig was half asleep, actually feeling a little more at ease since the spanking was out of the way. He felt Bobby get into bed, and instinctively rolled over to him, resting his head on Bobby's chest and letting an arm drop over the man's stomach. He heard the light switch flip off, and the room was silent. "Bobby?" He spoke, mostly asleep.

"Yeah kid?" Bobby asked in a whisper.

"I got scared." Craig muttered.

"What did you get scared of?" Bobby asked.

"The same thing I always get scared of. You got mad at me, and I just got scared." Craig wasn't sure if he actually heard the words that came from Bobby the way he thought he did. They didn't make sense to him, but he was sure he'd heard them.

"I got scared too kid, I'm sorry I scared you." Bobby rested a hand on the boy's head, and that was all that Craig remembered before going to sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)

Legal statement still counts.

* * *

**Chapter 21: Being a Brother**

Craig woke early the next morning, before Bobby. He stared at the man for a long moment before rolling away from him and snuggling down under the blankets. He had slept against his brother all night again. He was sure he could remember Bobby talking to him quite a few times, waking him just enough to keep him from having a bad nightmare. His brain was screaming out at him that he was too old to be sleeping with his older brother, and even worse he was too old to be lying against him, holding onto him like a small child, afraid of everything around him. He started to feel chilled after a few minutes, and without thinking about it, he rolled back into Bobby and hung onto him. To hell with being too old, he felt safe, and he was warm, and he wanted to know that Bobby was close.

Bobby's arm came up and dropped across the boy. "Go back to sleep. It's not even five o'clock." The man muttered in a sleep caked voice.

Craig kept his eyes closed, but didn't respond. He could feel his mind trying to slip back into a blissfully unaware state, but his bladder had other plans. He drew in a deep breath, and rolled away from Bobby again. "I gotta go to the restroom." He moaned.

Bobby didn't respond.

"Bobby." Craig opened his eyes now and sat up slowly. "I gotta pee." He looked down at the man.

"Okay." Bobby opened one eye and met the boy's gaze. "Come on, but make it quick." He pushed the blankets back and sat up.

Bobby walked him to the restroom and leaned against the door while the boy did what he needed to. When Craig was done he let Bobby walk him back to the room and got into bed with no arguments. He still felt tired, as if he hadn't slept much. Bobby got back into bed next to him, and held his arm out, away from his side. "Get over here." He muttered.

Craig got himself back into the position that seemed to be the norm for him recently. He rested his head on Bobby's chest and let the man pull his arm around him. "You gonna be able to go back to sleep?" Bobby asked him quietly.

"Yeah," Craig let his eyes close, and could feel his mind sucking him into the void Bobby referred to as sleep.

"If I'm not here when you wake up, you don't move from this bed. You yell for me, and I'll come and get you. If you get up on your own I'll bust you ass. Got it?" Bobby asked.

"Got it," Craig remembered mumbling as the slumber took over and he was back into a state of unknowing, at least for the most part. He felt Bobby next to him, and he could feel the rhythm of his breathing, and the beat of his heart. He was lost in those sounds and those feelings. He knew when Bobby moved, pulling away from him, sometime later, but he was in enough of a sleep that he couldn't protest, or hold onto him to keep him close. He wanted to wake up and go where ever it was his brother was going, but his mind wouldn't jolt enough to bring him back to consciousness. He did however feel for the pillow Bobby had abandoned and pulled his into his arms, hugging onto it and burying his face into it.

He could feel the dreams starting, but Bobby wasn't there to talk them away this time. The visions started out as they always did, with his father and mother, his mother's dead body, and all of the blood. It all seemed so vivid that he could actually smell that blood, and feel the pain from his father's onslaught that was directed at him. It had been his fault, he hadn't been quiet, and his mother had come to check on him, walking in to find his father doing what had become routine to both the man and the boy for so long.

The whole nightmare seemed to meld into the scene in the store, with his adoptive mother looking over the top of the meat counter at him, the look in her eyes a mixture of fear and worry. The gunshots that sent bullets into her body, and the men in black, faces covered with ski masks. The strike to his cheek brought a yell to the back of his throat that didn't quite make it out, and the feel of a hand snaking down into areas that he'd been told no one would ever touch again made him feel nauseous. He screamed out, he was sure of it, though when it had actually happened he hadn't been able to make a noise. The quiet voice in his ear telling him that he'd wanted that for a long time and that he'd heard from a good source that he was a good fuck made the boy feel dirty, and his whole body cringed.

Then everything went completely black and he could only feel the cruel intention directed at him with no way of controlling what was being done, or fighting back. He cried out for Bobby in his mind, wanting him to make it stop. He wanted it all to stop, to go away. He wanted the hands to stop grabbing at him, and pushing and pulling on him. He couldn't see where they were or who they belonged to. He could only hear voices, and feel the pain that was inflicted when he did try to struggle. He could feel his legs kicking out, and he felt himself pulling away from the pillow he'd been hugging onto. He knew he was dreaming, and he wanted to wake up. He tried to wake up, but he couldn't bring his whole mind out of the state that he was in, not enough open his eyes and lose the visions, or now the lack of visions that were attacking him.

"Craig it's okay." The voice sounded faint, and so detached from what he was experiencing that he didn't recognize it, and barely understood the words.

"Craig you can wake up now." The voice was accompanied by arms this time, arms that were grabbing hold of him and pulling on him, wrapping around him and preventing him from struggling in any way other than to start kicking, and that's what he did. He tried to kick out, in any direction that he could.

He felt himself being pulled out of the bed and the cool air of the room which started his body shivering hard. He screamed out, and he tried to pull away from who ever had their hold on him. He didn't like not having the control of his own body; it sent terror stinging at every nerve. The voice tried to talk to him again, but he kept screaming, and struggling, not sure of what was going on around him. He heard himself screaming out for Bobby, he wanted his brother to make it stop. Then he felt the arms around him tighten their hold and the voice seemed close to his left ear. "I'm right here kid, I've got you. Wake up now before I toss your ass in the shower." The voice sounded calm, and steady, and it was Bobby's. The realization stopped the boy from struggling instantly, and his legs and arms went limp. He let himself lean back into the man that was holding him and relax. The arms holding him seemed to tighten and had to hold him up. "Craig, wake your ass up now before I drop you." Bobby's voice sounded a little louder than before. The words brought Craig out of his dazed state enough that he opened his eyes. He found himself looking at the hall way instead of the bedroom. He blinked hard, trying to figure out where he was and what was going on. He wasn't fighting off the grey haze as he usually did when he first woke from a nightmare, but he felt disoriented and a little dizzy.

"Bobby?" He called out at the emotions hit him and the tears started to fall hard.

"I'm right here."Bobby spoke directly into his ear, drawing the boy's attention to the fact that Bobby was holding onto him from behind, his arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him up on his feet. They were just outside of the bathroom door, Bobby leaning back against the wall. "Put your feet on the floor." Bobby sounded calm, and didn't seem pissed off. "Stand yourself up."

Craig followed his brother's instructions without thinking.

"Good boy." Bobby sounded relieved as he loosened his hold on the boy. "You okay? Can you walk?" He didn't pull his arms away.

Craig shook his head slowly, not really sure what the question was that Bobby had asked, but he was certain the answer was no. He tried to remember what he'd been thinking only moments before, but his mind was driving the nightmares back into a part of his brain where he couldn't find them.

"Sure you can, come on." Bobby started pushing him in the direction of the restroom. Craig had to move his feet, and he found that he was able to walk, but he felt unsteady. He let Bobby walk him to stand in front of the toilet. "Take a piss." Bobby let go of him and moved to the chest of drawers that set next to the door.

Craig did what Bobby told him, without even considering that he had to pee. He finished and flushed the toilet. Bobby got out a washrag and a towel and walked over to the sink. "Come over here, and wash your hands and face." He spoke calmly.

Craig did as Bobby instructed, calming down once he was concentrating on the simple task. Bobby stood back and let him take control of what he was doing without rushing him. By the time Craig had managed to wash away his tears the urge to cry was gone, and he was no longer feeling shaky. He turned and looked at Bobby. "Sorry. " He muttered.

"You got nothing to be sorry for." Bobby shook his head. "Come on, let's get you dressed and you can come down for breakfast." He walked to the door and led the boy into the hall way.

Craig followed Bobby to his room. He stepped in ahead of his brother and froze. His sketch pads were nowhere in sight. He stared at the bed, first confused, and then terrified. He turned and looked at his brother, ready to ask where his memories were.

"I put them away. After the way you tossed and turned all night, I don't think you need to be looking through those books right now." Bobby shook his head. "Maybe later, when you're ready to share whatever the hell is in them, we can sit down together and we can both go through them."

Craig shook his head. "They're mine, you can't take them." He spoke weakly.

"I'm not trying to be mean here kid, but I'll be damned if you're gonna open up old hurts when you can't even deal with recent ones. I put them in a safe place, and when I think you're ready for them I'll give them back, but only if we sit down together to figure the shit out." Bobby's voice was firm, and it was obvious he wasn't figuring on arguing about the subject. "There ain't gonna be no more secrets, you got that?"

Craig felt panic filling him. "But they're mine." He spoke weakly.

"But Ma took them from you. Didn't she?" Bobby nodded his head. "And she wouldn't have done that without a reason. You open one of them books up and you fill it with things you've seen, right? You fill them up with the things you've seen, and that way you don't have to think about them. Am I right?" He asked calmly. "That's why when you were going to the doctors they let you draw everything for them. You said it yourself; all they ever did was let you draw. They knew you were drawing things that were in your head and you dealt with shit that way. You can draw all you want to kid, but Ma took those old sketch pads away from you for a reason, and it might have taken me a little time to figure it out, but I did. She didn't want you looking through them and remembering what you drew. She knew you couldn't deal with it. Until you can sit with me to look at them, I'm keeping them."

Craig felt defeated; he knew there was nothing he could say to Bobby to get the man to give the sketch books back. "Where did you put them?" He figured he had a right to know at least where they were.

Bobby drew in a deep breath and stared at the boy for a long moment, as if he were thinking. "I put them somewhere safe, and no one is going to fuck with them, and that's a promise. But I ain't telling you where they are. You can forget about them for now. Just forget they exist. If you go hunting for them, I'll burn the bitches and you'll never get them back."

Craig felt his heart sink into his gut. "But…" He started to argue with the man, though he knew it was a lost cause.

"No, Craig. I'm not gonna let you put yourself on a fucking emotional rollercoaster right now. You need to deal with the here and now, not what happened seven years ago. When you are ready, you and me will both look through them together." Bobby didn't give him the chance to even start the argument that was growing inside of him.

"I won't look through them, why can't I at least know where they are?" Craig asked.

"Because if you don't know, then you don't get temped to try to sneak around behind my back, and you know you would if you had the chance." Bobby still sounded calm. "Enough talk about books that you don't have any more. You get some clothes on now." He nodded his head towards the dresser.

Craig stared at Bobby for a long moment. He was angry at the man, and at the same time, he almost felt relieved. His brother's words made sense. Evelyn had told him he had to let go of the memories in those first sketch pads, and had told him she would hold onto them. He'd trusted her, and he'd felt safer knowing that she had the pads, had his memories in a safe place. Bobby was willing to do that for him now. That had to mean something. He just wished Bobby had done what Evelyn had done, and talked to him about it before just taking them. At least his mother had given him the choice, though he was sure there was no other option on his part at the time, she had at least let him feel as if there were.

Craig turned away from Bobby, still feeling a little angry at the man. He started pulling out clothes and dressing slowly. He didn't try to talk the man out of his decision any more, it would do him no good, and he knew that, but he didn't have to be happy about it.

When they got down to the living room Craig wasn't surprised that Jack was still in his bed in the dining room, snoring loudly.

Bobby made a face at the sound of the snoring. "Come on; let's get you something to eat." He walked the boy on through to the kitchen. "You want cereal?" He asked.

Craig agreed to the cereal with a low mumble and got himself out a clean bowl while the man opened the other cupboard to pull out the cereal. Minutes later Craig was sitting at the kitchen table eating his cereal, still trying to make himself stay angry with Bobby. He was really trying, but the man was acting normal, as if nothing had wrong had happened. He knew Bobby was right about the sketch pads, and he really wasn't as upset as he was trying to be. It just didn't feel right to give into the urge to agree with the man, yet.

Bobby sat across from him at the table and was telling him that Jerry had called earlier and would be by a little later. Green had called with some information about the two kids that had been in the car from the night before, and Angel had gone out to ask a few people he knew some questions about what they might have heard about the incident from the night before. They had been gang members, but they weren't sure which gang. They had also been young, and Bobby seemed to feel badly that his actions had killed them. He remarked that if he'd known just how young they really were that he might have tried another approach, and maybe no one would have had to have been killed. "But it was you and Angel, or them, and they didn't leave me much choice." He stated in a quiet voice.

He also said that the police had found an ID on one of the bodies and when Green had called he'd been able to give them a name. Dwayne Hutchins. That was just about the only information Angel had left the house with, but Bobby was sure he'd come home with plenty more. If someone besides a bunch of teenage gang bangers were after them, Angel would know by the time he got back to the house.

The man was talking almost nonstop and Craig found himself letting go of the sketch pad irritation and listening to what Bobby was saying. He silently promised himself that he would be angry at Bobby later. He didn't want to be angry at him now; he liked having his brother talking to him as if he were a real person, and trusting him enough to share some information with him. Bobby had always treated him like a little kid that he didn't want hanging around before. Recently he'd still be treating him like a little kid, but he'd been taking care of him and he did like having Bobby take care of him. Now he was sitting there telling him everything that was going on, and treating him more like a brother than he ever had. How could he possibly stay angry about some sketch pads when the man was letting him be a part of what was going on? He was talking to him as if he was fourteen years old and not a small child, and Craig liked the way it felt. He liked the feeling of Bobby just being his brother.


	22. Chapter 22

I know it's slowing down a little, but it will pick up again, I promise! Let me know your thoughts and thanks for reading :)

Legal statement still counts for this one.

* * *

**Chapter 22: Principal Bobby**

Jack's snores continued to fill the house as Bobby talked, and Craig ate. When Craig was finished with his breakfast Bobby decided it would be a good time for the boy to get his school books and carry them all back down stairs to start on his studies. Craig didn't think it was the best timing. He tried to tell Bobby he didn't think he could really concentrate on the school work, but his brother seemed to think that giving him something to focus on besides the previous night's events was a good idea. Bobby walked him up to his room and helped him gather the books and carry them to the kitchen.

"Why can't I sit in the dining room?" Craig asked, not liking the idea of being in the kitchen. It felt too detached from the rest of the house for some reason.

"Because I don't want you distracted by Jack's snoring. I'll be in and out of the room, but you are gonna sit here and work on this shit." Bobby pointed to the chair closest to the back door. "Sit your ass down and don't start complaining."

Craig purposely sat in the chair on the opposite side of the table and crossed his arms at his chest. Now seemed to be a good time to let his self feel pissed at Bobby again, the man wouldn't even let him sit and study where he wanted to.

"Hell no, you are not gonna sit there where you can look out the door and the window and get distracted. Get your ass over here." Bobby pointed to the chair he wanted him in. "I want to be able to look at you and see what the hell you're doing, I don't want your back to me when I walk in the room."

"But I don't like that chair." Craig muttered. Not that the chair on other side of the table was any different than the one he was sitting in. But he didn't want to be stuck in his school books all day, and he knew that was going to happen. He damn sure wasn't going to make it easy for the man to push his nose into his school books.

"Get your ass over here." Bobby's voice was starting to strain slightly. "Don't make me tell you again."

Craig moved, reading the threat in Bobby's words clearly. "This sucks." He muttered.

Bobby's hand reached up and gave him a light smack to the back of the head. "You listen to me when I tell you shit. Don't argue." He slid Craig's history book in front of him. "Where's that paper with your assignments on it?" He asked.

Craig shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know; you had it." There seemed to be a glimmer of hope for him yet. If Bobby couldn't find the paper he couldn't do the work.

Bobby turned and walked out of the kitchen quickly. He returned a moment later with the paper in his hand. "Here we go." He laid the paper on the table. "You got your notebook; you need something to write with." He turned and left the room again, returning with a black pen and a pencil. He dropped them on the table and nodded his head. "You're all set. Get to work." He turned and headed to the dining room. "It looks like Cracker Jack finally decided to wake up." He didn't seem to really be talking to Craig at that moment.

"I thought Jack was gonna help me." Craig spoke without opening the book. He listened and realized Jack's snores were no longer playing in the background of the usual sounds of the house.

"Open the book Craig, don't make me come in there and stand over you the whole time, I got shit I gotta do." Bobby called from the dining room.

Craig reached out and opened the book with a jerk, letting the hard cover smack down against the table loudly. He knew he had a bad attitude, but he didn't care at that moment. He didn't feel like studying, there were too many other things for him to think about. He wanted to get hs sketch pad and draw for a while, and he wanted his other sketch pads back.

Bobby appeared in the doorway. "What are you trying to do get your ass warmed up before having to sit on it for a few hours? 'Cause that's what's gonna happen if you keep it up." He warned in a deceptively calm voice.

Craig shook his head slowly and fingered through the pages slowly, no really paying attention to what page he was on.

"What is your problem? You knew you were gonna have to do this shit. Just do it and get it over with." Bobby turned to walk back into the dining room.

"There's no one to help me." Craig spoke normally.

"Get your face in that book Craig, or I'll smack you upside the head so hard you'll be reading through your nose." Bobby spoke in loud tone.

Craig glanced over to the door of the dining room in time to see Bobby helping Jack out of bed. "Can I come in the dining room now?" He called out. He didn't know why he couldn't move to the bigger table, where the chair was more comfortable. Jack was awake now, so he wouldn't be disturbing anyone.

"No." Bobby called back without looking over.

"Jack's up, he can help me, can't he?" Craig inquired.

"Not right now kid. Let me wake up." Jack didn't look into the kitchen either; he looked up at Bobby and said something quietly.

Both men laughed at whatever Jack had said before Bobby looked into the kitchen, catching the boy watching them. "What did I tell you?"

Craig let out a huff of frustration and looked at the paper listing his assignments. He had a lot of History to catch up on. They had been studying the American Constitution when he'd last been in class, it seemed now he had reading to do on the Civil War. He found the first chapter he needed and started reading, glancing into the dining room to see just how closely Bobby was watching him. The man was seated at the table with Jack, and the two of them were talking quietly.

With out looking over, Bobby's voice gained strength and volume. "Get your face back in that book." He continued on with the conversation he was having with Jack as if he hadn't strayed from it in the least.

Craig sighed and started reading again, though his brain couldn't seem to wrap around the words in front of him. He couldn't group them together into the sentences they were supposed to be. He did try, for a whole ten minutes. He found his memories seeping into his thoughts, and he had to start over at the beginning of the first paragraph because everything he'd read was lost. He stared at text again for nearly a full minute, still not being able to get his mind to comprehend the meaning of the words grouped before him. He slammed the book closed in frustration after making no progress. He pushed the book away and reached for his Algebra book, hoping that he could get somewhere with that. He heard movement in the doorway and looked up to find Bobby standing there with his arms crossed at his chest looking irritated.

Craig opened his Algebra book and slid his notebook a little closer to him, picking up the pencil.

"You want to tell me what the problem is?" Bobby asked.

"I can't think." Craig muttered, not sure how to really explain to the man how his mind was working against him at the moment. "It's too bright in here. There's not enough noise."

Bobby laughed at the statement. "You are kidding, right? You gonna tell me Ma let you study with noise and no light?"

Craig swallowed back at the frustration. "I always studied in the dining room." He muttered, looking up the lesson he needed to start on in the book.

"Well now you're gonna study in the kitchen where nothing can distract you." Bobby watched as the boy opened the book in front of him. "I'm gonna check the work kid, so don't jack around in here." He turned and walked back to the dining room.

Craig pulled his notebook closer and started writing down the first problem from the book, trying to work through it the best as he could. He found he was having the same trouble with the numbers as he'd had with the words. They didn't want to stick in his head, and he couldn't seem to get his brain to concentrate long enough to work out even the simple calculations that should have come easy to him. He erased the numbers once, and then neatly printed them again on the paper a second time. The feel of the pencil scratching against the paper felt good in his hand. He moved his pencil down the page a few inches and let the pencil mark out a line on the page. He was soon drawing a picture of a car with rust lining the bottom panel around the driver's door. He was lost in the details of the Dodge he was creating on the page when he felt a hand grab his wrist. The pencil was pulled out from between his fingers, and then he was being pulled to his feet.

He didn't have to look up to know it was Bobby, and it didn't surprise him when he felt the hard strike to his ass as soon as he was on his feet. He was pushed back down into the chair and he watched Bobby rip the page from his notebook and crumble it up before tossing it into the trashcan.

"I'm not playing with you here Craig. I want some work done." Bobby sounded pissed.

"I can't do it by myself." Craig muttered. His butt was stinging, but it didn't really hurt. He was more irritated than hurt by Bobby's actions.

"You can't do it by yourself?" Bobby looked just as irritated as Craig was feeling. He sat down in the chair across from the boy. "Get your pencil and start writing down the first problem." He spoke loud.

Craig picked his pencil back up and did what Bobby told him. Bobby picked up the book and turned it to look at the problem. "I hated math." He muttered.

Craig wanted to comment on his brother's statement, but thought it best not to aggravate the situation.

"Now, what do you need to do first? You need to balance it out, right?" Bobby looked at the boy.

Craig nodded his head. "Yeah," He muttered.

"Then start on the left side." Bobby pointed to the paper. "Combine the variables that are alike." He muttered.

"I know that." Craig muttered while he stared at the paper.

"Oh come on, I barely passed this class and even I know what you need to do." Bobby looked at the boy.

"I know what I need to do." Craig muttered.

"Then do it." Bobby put the book down on the table.

"I can't." Craig was feeling more frustrated.

"No one is gonna do this for you, so you might as well use your brain." Bobby slid his hand over to the notebook and rested finger on the paper. "These two cancel each other out Craig." He spoke quietly.

Craig stared at the numbers and letters in front of him. He knew what Bobby was telling him, he really did, he just couldn't get his mind to absorb what he was doing. He slowly re-printed the calculation below the first version.

"Now do the same on other side." Bobby's finger moved to the other half of the problem.

Craig stared at the numbers again, his mind drawing a complete blank.

"Oh come on." Bobby's voice rose slightly. "Think." He didn't offer any solution for his younger brother.

Craig stared at the problem for a moment longer. He wasn't surprised when Bobby pulled his hand back. "Do the exact same thing on that side Craig, find the like variables." He pushed.

Craig was a little surprised when his brain seemed to zone in on what Bobby was saying to him. He started printing carefully, making the change in the equation.

"Now, the solution will be much easier to find. Think about it." Bobby sat back in his chair, leaving the boy to work on the rest on his own.

Craig's brain worked slowly, but it did figure out the last part of the problem. He wrote down an answer, and sat back in his own chair. He looked at Bobby, hoping for confirmation that he'd gotten the correct solution.

"Now start on the next one." Bobby turned the book back towards him. "Do the exact same thing. These are all the same." Bobby stood slowly. "I'll be back in twenty minutes. That should be plenty of time for you to get these done. If you get stuck, yell for me, I'll come in and help you as much as I can, but you gotta at least try." He walked out of the room without giving Craig a chance to argue.

Craig did the next three problems, taking his time, but not being completely sure of what he was doing. He used the first problem as an example each time he got stuck. By the time Bobby came back he had finished the first lesson and was working on the next one. Bobby seemed satisfied with the work. He told Craig Jack needed to eat, and he gathered up the milk, juice, cereal, a glass and a bowl and spoon and carried them into the dining room, so that Jack could have breakfast.

Craig was getting tired of sitting in one spot by the time Bobby had served Jack his food and brought the dishes back into the kitchen. It had been a little over an hour since he'd started working on his school assignments, and his butt was sore from the hard chair. He watched Bobby make a second trip to retrieve everything from the dining room, though he was trying his best to keep his mind on the book in front of him.

Craig finally looked up at Bobby as the man ran some hot dishwater into the sink. "Can I get up for a little bit?" He asked.

"You move from that chair and I'll bust your ass." Bobby didn't look over from washing the few dishes that were in the sink.

"Bobby, my butt is numb." Craig muttered.

Bobby glanced over at him. "Better than having it sting, ain't it?" He asked.

Craig gave up arguing and went back to the Algebra. "This sucks." He muttered.

"You would prefer being in school?" Bobby asked after a few minutes.

"Yes." Craig spoke without thinking. "At least they let us get up and walk every forty five minutes." He was sulking, he knew it, but he didn't care.

"You want to get up and walk for a minute? I'll walk you up to the rest room if you gotta piss." Bobby looked over at him as he finished getting the few bowls and glasses washed. He let the water out of the sink and dried his hands.

Craig dropped his pencil quickly. "Okay." He accepted the offer quickly as he stood; ready to get away from the table for just a few minutes.

"But if you don't piss, I'm gonna bust your ass for bullshitting me." Bobby turned toward him as he tossed the towel onto the counter.

Craig sat back down. "That's crap." He muttered.

Bobby laughed. "Craig I know this is boring as hell, I really do, but you got almost a full months worth of work you gotta catch up on. You need to get it done. I ain't gonna give in on this. I'm a hard headed son of a bitch, so you might as well just get your brain in gear and get the shit done."

"I've got plenty of time to do this." Craig countered as he picked his pencil back up.

"No, you don't. I'm not gonna have you waiting until the last minute and trying to get it all crammed into one fuckin' day. I know that's what I used to do, and I ain't gonna let you do it." Bobby spoke seriously that time. "You are gonna have your ass in that chair from eight 'till five every fucking day until you get that shit caught up. No exceptions. Keep up the bull shit and I'll keep you there from the time you get up until you go to bed every night." He warned.

"No breaks at all? That's not fair." Craig muttered.

"You can stop to eat lunch, and I'll take you to the restroom when you need to go, but no, no breaks. I want this shit done before you go back to school and I'm gonna make sure it gets done." Bobby didn't sound as irritated. "The harder you work, the quicker you'll get through that list. You finish those assignments before the holiday break is over and you have all the free time in the fuckin' world, so stop complaining and keep working." Bobby walked out of the room, leaving the boy to his studies.

Angel came home just before noon and walked into the kitchen. "Shit, you don't look too happy." He laughed as he opened the refrigerator and leaned into it, his back to the boy. "So what's it like having Bobby as your principal?"

Craig made a face at the man, but didn't say anything. His frustration was growing. He had finished four of the Algebra assignments and had moved onto English, trying to give his brain a break from the numbers. Not that it had been the best decision; he was having the same problem getting the words to make sense to him as he'd had with the History. He had to read a short story and then write about it, giving his own interpretation of the meaning of the text. He couldn't seem to get past the first paragraph. He thought about working on the assignments in his Grammar workbook, but didn't think that would be much better.

Angel emerged from the refrigerator with the jug of orange juice at the same moment Bobby walked into the kitchen. "Hey, you find out anything?" Bobby asked, not looking over at Craig.

"Yeah, but it's not much." Angel nodded his head while getting a glass out of the cupboard.

"Well get your ass in here and tell me about it." Bobby turned towards Craig. "You give up on the math?" He asked.

Craig looked up at the man. "Bobby, why can't I have a break?" He asked.

Bobby shook his head. "You gotta pee yet?" He asked.

"No." Craig muttered.

"Stop your damn complaining. I ain't gonna stay this patient very long, and if you keep up your whining I'll give you a reason to whine." The man walked out of the kitchen, back into the dining room.

Angel put the juice up and looked at the boy. "Give me few minutes, and if you need some help, I'll help you out a little." He winked at him before carrying his juice into the dining room.

Craig found his ears straining to hear what was being said in the dining room. His brothers were all three sitting at the table, but they were talking in quiet voices, and when Craig glanced in he could see Bobby looking at him. He kept quiet and stared at the pages of the book for a long time, wishing he could hear what was going on in the dining room. It wasn't fair. He had a right to know what Angel had found out. He was just as involved as his brothers. He'd been shot at, and he was the one who ran into Anthony at the store. He should be allowed to hear what Angel was telling Bobby and Jack at that moment. The longer he sat there the more irritated he was feeling. He felt as if he were being punished, and he wasn't sure why. Bobby had taken his sketch pads away, he wouldn't let him up from the table, and now they were talking about what had happened the night before and not lettiig him in on what was being said.


	23. Chapter 23

Let me know what you think, as always :) and thanks for reading.

Still don't own, still make no money!

* * *

**Chapter 23: A Little Information**

Bobby glanced into the kitchen, Craig had his eyes focused on the book in front of him, but he was sure the kid wasn't reading the words on the page. He sighed and looked at Angel, who was taking a long drink of his juice. "So?" He asked.

Angel set his glass down on the table. "Those boys from that car were in a gang called the Street Kings. They are just a bunch of kids who got together and tried to make like they were part of a real gang. They steal, and they harass people, but most of their shit is petty." He shook his head. "No big time shit goin' down with them."

"Same gang Anthony Miller is in?" Jack asked quietly, glancing into the kitchen to check that Craig wasn't looking in or listening.

"Yeah, same gang, but man, they didn't have the leadership. Most gangs got adults somewhere up the line that everyone answers too; they use the kids to do their dirty work so they don't get caught; running drugs, selling stolen shit, that kind of thing. Well these kids were just a bunch of punks who thought it would be cool to get together and try and be a gang. From what I could find out, the only time they handle drugs is when they manage to steal some, and then it's just little shit. They ain't any real gang; they're a group of kids playin' gangster 'wanna be'. They aren't afraid to fight if they're confronted, but they ain't never really had real leadership."

"Well someone in their little play fest was organized enough to pull that shit with us last night." Bobby whispered. "This is the same gang that little Tony likes to play in, so maybe Green's right, maybe he decided to get some revenge on us for his big brother."

"No, I don't think so. Word is they got themselves someone backing them now. Craig said last night that Anthony seemed glad that his big brother got his nuts blown off. He also said Anthony told him he was working, said his gang cleaned up their act, and got into something with some class, right? To a teenage kid class means money and nothin' more." Angel sighed. "There's more. There's someone moving in and buying up Sweet's holdings in some business deals. Whoever it is, they're moving fast too. I think this is about Jerry's business, still. It think he's gonna get a call any day now, and he's gonna be right back where he was with Sweet." He looked at Bobby.

"Who's been buyin' Sweet's shit?" Bobby asked.

Angel shook his head. "Don't know. Don't know for certain. There was one name that came up on a lease to one of Sweet's restaurants. Jessup Winston. But that was just one business, the rest of them, no one has any names." He looked over to Jack for a moment and then back at Bobby. "Now, Winston has been a small timer mostly, in business for a lot of years, but he doesn't have the reputation that Sweet had. He doesn't muscle shit from people. Word is he's good to the people who work for him. He has quite a few legitimate businesses, and he does some dealing on the side when he finds it's going to be profitable for him. He doesn't deliver beatings or blow shit up if he doesn't get what he wants. He usually finds that enough money will get him his own way, and he goes with that. He worked with Sweet in some business, but word on the street is he didn't like the man. That's why it doesn't make much sense; I don't think he had anything to do with what went down last night. He damn sure don't deal with little kids off the street, he presents himself with real class, not the put on shit that most men in his position flash to get attention, not the kind Anthony was referring to when Craig talked to him."

Jack chuckled softly. "You talk about him like he's one of the good bad guys." He grinned at Angel.

"Well he's the kind of man I used to try to be." Angel flashed his smile back at his younger brother with a gleam in his eyes. "He just doesn't fit the type that would have been behind what happened here last night." He spoke seriously and looked directly at Bobby. "There has to be something else that I couldn't find, but damn, I asked all over this fucking town."

"But you don't think the kids did this with their own brains?" Bobby looked confused. "You don't think they came up with it themselves, maybe moving up into some bigger shit?"

Angel shook his head. "They got in with some organization that would be capable of guiding them into bigger shit. Now maybe someone is using the fact that little Tony lost his brother to get these kids to come after us because of what happened with Sweet, but I'll be damned if I can find out who it is. None of Sweet's men would come after us, not after the money they were paid. Hell they were happy to sink that bastard."

"But you just said that the only name you could get was this Winston guy, and he don't fit the type of guy who would try to muscle Jerry, or us." Bobby countered, looking confused. "Don't sound like he would be too upset that Sweet is out of the way either, I mean he's gonna make some money because we cleared the way for him."

"I didn't say I had all of the answers. I just know what I found out and what I feel. Man, this ain't about no punk kid trying to get revenge for killing his child molester, murdering big brother. I don't think it's this Winston guy, if he wanted to come after us or Jerry for anything I think he would have just made the phone call and he would have been talking money, not blood." Angel leaned closer to Bobby. "I think the best thing to do is find Anthony and ask him straight up what the fuck is going on. Right now it looks like he's the only one who will have any answers."

Bobby glanced into the kitchen at Craig, who was looking in at them. "Get back to work or I'll make you skip lunch." He threatened.

Jack shook his head. "Why are you being so hard on him with that?" He asked quietly.

"He needs time to sit and stay calm. I'm not trying to be mean, but he needs to get some shit in his head besides what's gone down the past few weeks. Something around here needs to be normal for him, and keeping his brain working on his studies is good for him." Bobby spoke quickly.

"You need to let him take a break." Jack commented.

"No I don't. If he gets up from that table he's gonna start thinking about the shit that happened last night. Someone he considers his friend is involved with this, and that will eat away at him. I don't want him concentrating on that and getting his emotions all worked up and out of control. He don't talk about anything, he just thinks up what might happen next and get's himself worked up being afraid of shit that might happen. He lets it build up until he explodes and then he ends up running out of the fucking house and getting his ass shot at." Bobby kept his voice quiet. "By the end of the day his brain is gonna be too tired to think and I want to keep it that way."

Jack looked confused. "Did you just hear yourself say that?"

"It makes sense to me Jack, and I'm gonna keep him at that table and studying until we figure out what the fuck is going on here." Bobby sat back in his chair, looking in at the boy again. "I don't want him thinking about Anthony right now."

"Might not be able to do that," Angel spoke calmly.

Bobby looked at Angel. "What does that mean?"

"Well, Craig knows Anthony. He knows where he might be hanging out." Angel commented. "So we gotta talk to that boy and see if he might know something he doesn't realize he knows." He cocked his thumb in the direction of the kitchen.

"Hell no," Bobby shook his head.

"Bobby, he was fucked up before and you dragged him around with you everywhere you went. I'm just talking about asking him some questions man, that's all." Angel kept his gaze on Bobby. "He might even know who it is this gang has gotten mixed in with. He might have an idea who it is that might have that much influence on these kids, they go to his school, he knows them."

Bobby shook his head and sighed quietly. "You guys don't see him when he's trying to sleep. I had to wake him up two or three times every hour last night because of his fucking nightmares. He ain't gonna be over this shit for a long time, and he needs some time to feel normal." He looked at Angel. "I don't think he's ready to be involved in this. We can find our answers without dragging his ass into it."

"You are gonna tell him what we are doing though, right?" Angel asked. "He's gonna want to know what the hell is going on."

"Yeah, I'll keep him informed, but he's not leaving this house. And we ain't gonna question him and make him wonder about what the fuck Anthony might be involved with." Bobby shook his head.

Angel nodded his head, and seemed to be concentrating hard for a moment, but he didn't comment on Bobby's statement. "Has anyone been helping him with that book learnin?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders. "I helped him get started on his numbers, he needs to do this on his own or he won't learn anything."

"No wonder he looked like a rabid dog about to attack when I first walked in. He's probably about to go crazy in there trying to figure out what he's doin'." Angel pushed his self up from the table.

"What does that mean?" Bobby asked, not understanding why it would be so hard for the boy to read some pages out of the books and write answers down on paper.

"That means that Ma had Jerry helping Craig with his homework most nights for a reason Bobby. He needs help." Angel looked directly at his older brother. "Man, he might be old enough to do his regular homework by his self now, but you got him trying to catch up on three weeks worth of lessons, with no instruction from any teacher, and you think he's gonna be able to do that by his self?" He frowned at the man. "You really don't like to think do you?"

"I just want him to do it himself, that's all. I don't want anyone doin' it for him." Bobby spoke quickly.

"I won't do it for him, but he needs some help." Angel walked out of the dining room, into the kitchen and sat down across from Craig.

Bobby looked over at Jack. "That was supposed to be your job." He commented, pointing towards the kitchen.

"I'm not the best person to help anyone with their homework." Jack shook his head.

"You made good grades." Bobby countered.

"Because Jerry helped me," Jack commented. "Hell, he helped you too." He looked into the kitchen and watched as Angel took the book from Craig. "You know Angel's gonna ask him some questions, right?"

Bobby hadn't considered that Angel would go against him and try to ask Craig anything. He looked into the next room and shook his head. "Naw, he wouldn't do that, not after I told him not to."

"You said you were gonna tell Craig what was going on anyway. He's gonna fill him in, and then see if Craig has any ideas on who Anthony could be mixed up with." Jack stated matter-of-factly. "It's Angel we're talking about."

Bobby frowned at Jack. "I know my brother better than that. He would not go against what I said as far as Craig was concerned."

"I would." Jack shrugged his shoulders. "If I thought you were wrong I would. It's Angel, I know him too. What, you think you're the only one who knows your brothers?"

Bobby stared at Jack for a long moment, considering his words. Yeah, Jack would go against him in a situation like this, he did know that. He turned and looked at Angel, hell, Jack was right; Angel would try to bring up the questions in a way that Craig wouldn't realize he was being asked. The man stood quickly and walked into the kitchen. He wasn't about to let Angel pull this shit. He didn't want Craig involved, and that was all there was to that. He wanted the kid to be able to get back to something close to normal in his life, and damn it, he was gonna make sure that happened.

* * *

Craig was surprised when Angel came back into the kitchen and sat down across from him at the table.

"Are you getting' anywhere here?" The man reached out and took his book from him, turning it so that he could see the page. "Oh hell, I used to hate reading the shit in these books. It's so lame." He laughed as he read a few of the words. "What do you have to do read this little story here and then write out a synopsis?" He looked at the boy.

Craig nodded his head. He was surprised Angel had actually come back. He was even more surprised when the man gave the book back to him. "Okay, start reading it to me, and explain it to me as you go. I never could get these things right." Angel instructed.

Craig had stared at the pages for so long the words were starting to look blurry to him. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment before starting to read the short story from the pages. He read it out loud, as Angel had told him to, and it did seem to make more sense when he could actually hear the words. He read the first paragraph, and then Angel had him explain to him what he'd just read. He was starting on the second part of the story when Bobby walked into the room.

"Time for lunch," Bobby announced.

Craig looked up at Bobby. "But I'm in the middle of this." He muttered, not wanting to stop at that very moment, just when he had someone to help him, and he was starting to make a little progress.

"That's a change." Bobby spoke with a slight chuckle. "You keep working. I'm gonna make toasted cheese sandwiches." He sounded cheerful as he walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a pack of cheese.

"You are not gonna cook." Angel spoke quickly, a quiet laugh escaping from him.

"I can make toasted cheese sandwiches." Bobby insisted, he looked at Craig and winked, letting the boy know he was messing with Angel.

"We got lunch meat." Angel looked over at Bobby, who was opening the cupboard holding the pots and pans. "Bobby, back away from the skillet," He stood quickly, moving to block Bobby's reach for the cupboard.

Both men smiled as their gazes met. "You wanna stop me little brother?" Bobby asked.

"I'm only thinking of the safety of others here." Angel grinned. "We got lunchmeat." He slammed the cupboard door closed.

Bobby gave Angel a hard stare. "You remember I'm the big brother here." He spoke seriously, losing the playful tone he'd had in his voice just a moment before. "I'll go with the lunchmeat for now. But I want toasted cheese tomorrow." He handed Angel the pack of cheese.

"I know who the big brother is." Angel took the cheese, giving Bobby a questioning look.

"Remember that." Bobby looked at Craig. "Go ahead and help your little brother with his ABCs. I'll make the sandwiches." He grabbed the cheese back from Angel and tossed it onto the counter.

Angel sat back down across from Craig and glanced back at Bobby for a moment before motioning the boy to go on with his reading.

Craig looked over at Bobby and then back to Angel. He wasn't sure what exactly had just happened, but he was sure something had taken place that was beyond his understanding. Bobby and Angel seemed to have said something to each other that hadn't been spoken in words. They both had changed from their playful mood to serious with no warning, and it made the boy feel uncomfortable. He wanted to ask what was going on between them, but he figured that wouldn't be the best thing to do by the expressions both wore on their faces.

He also wanted to know what they had been talking about in the dining room. Angle had found out something, and he didn't like being kept in the dark about it. He wanted to know what was going on just as badly as they did. He'd been shot at too, and he was getting sick and tired of having shit happen that he couldn't control.

Did Angel find out if Anthony was involved? He was sure that he was, but at the same time his mind fought off the idea. He was sure there was a lot more to it than it being random gang violence, but he couldn't imagine that Anthony had come after them like that. No matter what his gut was telling him, his mind was remembering the times that Anthony had sat out in front of the house and talked to him as if he were a real person and not just some little kid that was in the way. He was remembering the times that Anthony had walked him home from school because Jack was no longer around to do that. Anthony had been his friend.

But his mind went back to the grocery store encounter and the uneasiness that had taken hold of him while talking to his friend; the tone of Anthony's voice, the look in his eyes and the tension that seemed to have replaced the normally relaxed features of the older boy. Yeah, he knew something was up, and he was sure that Angel had found out something about Anthony Miller that he had a right to know about.

Angel sighed. "Come on, stop looking at me like that and start reading or I'll let Bobby make the toasted cheese and feed it to you." He smiled at the boy, but the corners of his mouth didn't quite stretch far enough for it to look sincere.

Craig wanted to ask Angel right then what he'd found, but instead he looked back down at the book and started reading. He would be better able to ask questions once he had his lunchmeat sandwich in front of him. As he read, Jack yelled in something about being left in the dining room by his self, and wanting to come out to the kitchen. He ignored the good natured banter that was passed between Bobby and Jack after that, and concentrated on his reading. Yeah, he would wait until they were all sitting down to eat before he started asking questions about their private conversation in the dining room.


	24. Chapter 24

As always let me know what you think:)

Legal stuff still counts!

* * *

**Chapter 24: The Anthony Debate**

Craig closed his English book with no hesitation as soon as Bobby announced that the sandwiches were made and everyone needed to grab their own and take them to the dining room. He was on his feet instantly stood there for a moment to let the blood return to his back side before trying to walk.

Angel laughed at him as he stood. "You can't be that hungry." He commented as he walked over to the counter and grabbed a plate holding a sandwich. He walked into the dining room and sat down.

"Come on, move it. You got thirty minutes and then you need to get back to work." Bobby held a plate out towards the boy.

"Thirty minutes? That's all?" Craig walked over to take his lunch from his brother.

"Thirty minutes." Bobby let Craig take the plate, and reached for the last two that were sitting on the counter.

"Bobby, they give us forty five minutes for lunch at school." Craig countered.

"Bobby only gives thirty." Bobby looked at him and smiled. "And when I check your work if you've completed at least ten lessons off of that list and they're done right, I might even let you up from the table an hour early."

Craig felt his irritation for his older brother growing slightly. "That's not fair." He muttered and turned away from the man, walking towards the dining room. There was no way he was going to be able to finish enough of the work by four o'clock to be allowed up from the table, and he knew that.

"That's life, get over it and deal with it." Bobby followed the boy into the dining room, and set a plate in front of Jack before sitting down in his own seat. He waited until Craig had started eating his sandwich before starting on his own.

All four were quiet for a few minutes while everyone ate.

Craig looked at Bobby and then at Angel, wondering what it was that was going on with the two of them in the kitchen just a short time before. Neither one looked as if they were going to be the best choice for asking questions at that moment, but he wanted to know what was going on and what Angel had found out that morning. He had gone out specifically to ask around and find out about the kids in the car from the night before. He finally looked down the table at Jack, thinking he might be the best one to talk to, but he knew if he asked him any questions around Bobby and Angel that he wouldn't tell him anything. He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly, trying to figure out how he was going to get some answers. He wanted to know what Angel found out about Anthony, he had a right to know.

"Angle found out some shit." Bobby finally looked at the boy. "He found out those two kids from the car were in the same gang that your buddy Anthony hangs with."

Craig looked up at his oldest brother, surprised that the information had been laid out before him without having to ask.

"Looks like they might have gotten themselves involved with someone who can finally tell them how to pull off some big time crime. You know what I'm saying to you?" Bobby asked.

Craig nodded his head slowly, waiting to see just how much Bobby was going to tell him.

"Were you and Anthony real tight?" Bobby asked.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "Not really. He got involved with some things, and Mom wouldn't let me have anything to do with him." Craig muttered. "But before, he used to be pretty cool."

"Well, you know how gangs work, don't you?" Angel asked the question slowly.

Craig shifted his gaze to Angel and thought about the question. "No." He finally answered honestly. How was he supposed to know how gangs worked? He had never been a part of one, and he didn't like being around other kids who were.

Angel gave Bobby a look, as if he were asking for permission for something. Bobby sighed and nodded his head, looking at Craig before looking back to Angel. "Okay." He sat back in his chair and looked back to the fourteen-year old.

Angel cleared his throat slightly and set down his sandwich. "Let me explain something to you about gangs, first. A real gang ain't run by no punk teenagers. A real gang has some pretty seasoned ass holes sitting on the throne passing down the orders to the kids. They deal their drugs, they got their prostitution shit goin' down, and they deal with buyin' and sellin' stolen shit, you name it, they are involved. They use the kids for running the drugs, transporting the stolen shit, what you might call the menial labor. If a teenage kid gets caught, they might get some time in Juvi', but if an adult gets busted, hell, they'll do real time in a real fucking jail. The gang Anthony was mixed up with was called the Street Kings. Did you know that?"

Craig shook his head slowly, "No, I never really cared what they called themselves."

"Well, they were a group of kids who decided they wanted to be a gang and they got together and made up a name, and decided what colors they were gonna wear, and they played at being a gang."Angel spoke slowly. "They did the same kind of shit that a gang would do, but they didn't have any direction, and no real goals. They were doing the whole gang routine so they had something to do really; a place to hang out, people to hang out with. They thought the illegal shit was fun; it was more of a game to them than real business, you with me so far?"

Craig nodded his head, still trying to process the fact that his brothers were sharing the information with him without him having to ask. He'd been sure that no one would tell him anything. He'd thought he'd have to beg for some details. He kept his gaze fixed on Angel, afraid if he looked away from him that he'd stop talking.

"Yesterday, at the store, Anthony told you that his boys had cleaned up their act a little, got some class." Angel nodded his head. "What do you think he meant by that?"

Craig shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. The way he said it gave me the creeps though." He muttered.

"Good, it should have. Most kids in Anthony's shoes consider anything that pays well as class." Angel held his fingers up to make quotation marks in the air when he spoke the last word. He drew in a deep breath. "Kids tend to think that money and class are the same thing, so when someone like Anthony says he's gotten into something with some class, he's talking about money, not taste."

Craig nodded his head slowly, understanding Angel's words and letting his brain process the meaning of what his brother was telling him.

"What happened last night took some planning, and that's not something that the Street Kings are known for. They don't plan shit out, they aren't organized. But both of the boys in the car were members of that group of kids, just like Anthony." Angel kept his gaze fixed on the youngest Mercer. "Now, someone had to tell them what to do, and that fits in with what Anthony said to you. They got someone to lead them, an adult who has some street smarts, and can organize these kids and turn them into a real gang."

Craig let the words register in his head, and understood what Angel was saying to him. Anthony had belonged to a gang of kids that weren't a true gang, they just wanted to be. They had wanted to belong to something, and the boy understood that feeling, he'd wanted to fit in too, but he'd been trying to fit in with his own family.

Anthony's family consisted of a mother who disowned him at the first sign of trouble, and an asshole brother who probably got him hooked up with the wrong kind of people to begin with. Anthony had been dealt a raw deal and he'd grasped at the only thing he knew and could relate to. He'd followed Stanley's example because he had never been shown anything else, and he didn't feel he had much of a choice. He couldn't help but think it wasn't too late to get his friend some help. He knew it wasn't a good idea to voice his feelings at that moment; his brothers weren't big Anthony fans to say the least.

Angel glanced at Bobby, as if he were waiting for the man to say something.

Bobby looked at Angel, and then over to Craig. "What we gotta do is find out where this little social club of Anthony's likes to hang out. We need to ask some questions and find out who the hell they're answering to now, and why they targeted us, because it's doubtful that this was random, and it's even more doubtful that they were getting back at us for ridding the world of Anthony's older brother." He spoke the words as if someone was standing over him, forcing them from his mouth.

Craig thought about the statement. He shook his head slowly. "The only place I ever seen them hanging around was the school." He muttered.

Bobby looked at Angel as if something had been settled between the two of them. The look in his eyes was one of satisfaction.

"Youngster, I want you to think. Think long and hard. Where did Anthony hang out when he wasn't around you? You must have some idea, must have heard something, maybe he said something to you at some time that you might not have really thought was important, but it might give us an idea of where to start." Angel apparently felt it was safe to ask the question, though Bobby was giving him a threatening stare. Angel ignored Bobby and kept his eyes fixed on the teenager across the table from him.

Craig thought, just as Angel had told him to. If he did know something he wanted to be able to help. He wanted to be able to help his brothers and possibly help Anthony at the same time. If Anthony was getting into something more serious then someone had to get him out of it, and he didn't have any one else that would care enough to make an effort. "I never really talked to him much after he was arrested. I mean when I seen him at the rink, that was first time I'd really talked to him in about a year."

Bobby pulled his stare from Angel and looked at the boy. " A year?" He asked, looking confused. "Hell, the way you were acting he was your best friend."

Craig looked at Bobby, "He was, before." He muttered. "Anthony's not a bad kid, he just don't have much of a family or anyone to tell him what he needs to do." He muttered.

"He's got a mother." Bobby shook his head.

"She won't have anything to do with him now." Craig kept his voice quiet.

"Well maybe she got tired of his shit?" Jack spoke from the other end of the table.

Craig shook his head. "She never had much to do with him when he was younger, she was too busy with other things. She let Stanley take care of him." He looked down at the edge of the table. "And as soon as he got into trouble she just washed her hands of him. She didn't want to be bothered with him."

"Well tell me this, does Anthony know right from wrong?" Bobby reached out and grabbed a hold of the boy's arm.

Craig looked up at Bobby. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, he always seemed to around me." He muttered.

"Then he knew when he made the wrong choices, right?" Bobby pointed out. "He made those choices anyway."

Craig shook his head. "What choice did he have? He didn't know anything else." He wished he could make his brothers understand.

"Craig that's bullshit." Bobby shook his head.

"Why?" Craig cried out. "He didn't have any one to tell him what his choices were. Everyone told him he made the wrong choices, but no one told him what other options he had. If no one tells you how are you supposed to know? Did you know before Mom was around to tell you?" As soon as he said the words he wanted to take them back. He knew Bobby was going to be pissed.

Bobby opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, but then closed it. He nodded his head slowly. "Okay, you got me there. Hit pretty close to home too, didn't you?" He didn't sound pissed, but he didn't sound happy. "You want me to be honest with you? I knew my choices, and I knew I didn't have to do most of the shit I did when I was a kid. I knew what I was supposed to do, and I didn't want to do it." He drew in a deep breath. "After Ma adopted me I still made the same shitty choices. I did jail time, you know that. We all did. You think that just because we had a mother and a home that it fixed everything for all of us? It didn't for me, not for a long time. I still thought the same, and I did the same shit. Ma didn't like it, and she didn't approve, but at the time I didn't give a fuck. I liked being the way I was, in fact I still do a lot of that shit, and I miss the action and the thrill that comes from having the reputation I had. I was out to get respect, and I thought that meant people had to be afraid of me. I was angry, and I was pissed at the world, and I wanted to do what the hell I wanted to do. So don't be thinking that Anthony didn't know his options, because I'd bet good money that he did and just didn't want to do what everyone else told him he should do." Bobby's voice grew in strength as he spoke. "He knew his choices and he made the wrong ones."

Craig stared at him. That was far more information than he wanted about his brother. He didn't like thinking about the way Bobby had been before, though he'd heard all of the stories about all of his brothers, he liked believing that Bobby wasn't the kind of person that everyone always made him out to be; cold hearted and not caring about anyone but himself. If Bobby was like that, then it meant that his brother couldn't care about him. "But.." He wasn't certain of what he wanted to say right then, he wanted Bobby to take back what he was saying about Anthony, and about himself as well. He didn't want to picture his brother as a common street thug, it wasn't the image he had ever had of the man, and he didn't want that knowledge now. Sure, just a couple of weeks earlier he'd seen all of his brothers using the same skills he liked to ignore they possessed, but he preferred at that time to keep his self ignorant to the truth about their past.

"No buts." Bobby shook his head. "You got Anthony on some fucking pedestal, and I'm gonna knock him off of it right now. You aren't some little kid who needs to idolize a punk like Anthony. He might have been different when he was younger, I'll give you that, but he made his choices, and you gotta let it go." Bobby leaned a little closer to him. "You gotta grow up a little bit here, and face some facts. You can't trust that boy, and if you do, you're gonna end up getting hurt. You got that?"

Craig did know what Bobby was saying, and he knew deep down that his brother was right. He hadn't trusted Anthony in the grocery store. He had felt as if Anthony was dangerous, and he knew Bobby was right. "I don't trust him."He spoke weakly.

"I'm not so sure you believe your own words kid." Bobby looked at Jack and then at Angel before looking back to Craig. "Look, if there seems to be any chance at all that Anthony isn't too far gone, then we'll do what we can to try to help him, but don't expect that. I have a feeling that Anthony is past the point of really caring about anything or anyone except Anthony."

Craig nodded his head just enough that Bobby knew he had heard him. "Okay." He muttered, looking back down to his sandwich.

Angel sighed. "So, how did this discussion turn into a debate on Anthony Miller's character?" He looked at Bobby.

Bobby just shook his head and picked his sandwich back up.

Angel looked at Craig. "You said the only place you ever seen them was at the school?" He reminded Craig of what he'd said before he and Bobby had gotten onto the subject Anthony and choices.

Craig nodded his head and stared at the last half of his sandwich. He had lost any appetite that he'd worked up from studying. He started picking at the crust, pulling minuscule specs of if away and letting it drop onto the plate below.

"What?" Angel held his hand up to his ear and leaned towards the boy.

"Yeah." Craig muttered without looking up.

"In the morning before school and in the afternoon, after school?" Angel asked the question in his usual calm, slow voice.

Craig nodded his head again. "Yeah." He confirmed quietly.

A thoughtful expression crossed Angel's face and he turned to Jack. "Didn't you and your little group of Jr. High rock band dreamers used to practice in an old shed close to the school?" He asked.

Jack looked at Angel. "Hey, we were pretty damn good." He countered.

Angel laughed at the statement. "Okay, whatever. But didn't you used to hang out in some abandoned building around the school there?" He seemed to have decided to get on with his point.

"Yeah, a garage, not a shed. The house had burned years ago, and the lot had been cleaned up but the garage was still there. It wasn't a bad place to practice. The acoustics were great, and there was no one around to bother with our noise." Jack shrugged his shoulders.

"If those boys hang around the school all of the time, to see their little buddies coming and going, they must have a place close to the school they call their own." Angel explained quietly.

Bobby nodded his head. "Yeah, good point." He agreed. "But a garage? Ain't that a just a little too childish for these punks?"

"Well, it's a place to start." Angel countered. "We might just have to hang out around the school ourselves and see if any of them show up. Follow them back to where ever they like to chill."

Bobby nodded his head. "Yeah, but if we're gonna do something like that then we need to head that way soon. School lets out at three thirty." He looked at Craig, "Right?"

Craig nodded his head. His hopes that Bobby was going to take him with him were quickly dashed when both Bobby and Angel stood, and Bobby looked at the boy. "You finish that sandwich and then you can bring your books in here where Jack can keep an eye on you." He picked up his sandwich and took a bite of it while he picked up his plate and walked towards the kitchen.

"Shouldn't I go with you?" Craig asked, hoping to argue his way into the car with his brothers.

"Hell no," Bobby called out without looking back.

Angel picked up his plate as well. "You really didn't think he was gonna let you out of studying that easy, did you?" He laughed as he turned to follow Bobby's lead.

"But I might see someone who would know where they hang out." Craig called out, still hoping to get his brother to give in. He wanted to be a part of finding Anthony. He had a right to be there.

"No Craig. You stay here and listen to Jack and do your ABCs like a good little boy." Bobby called out and it was easy to tell the man was in the front foyer.

"But I can…" Craig started.

"Goodbye Craig." Angel called out, and then the sound of the front door closing hard echoed through the house.

"Damn it." Craig couldn't resist the urge to kick at Bobby's empty chair. He didn't mean to kick it hard enough to knock it over, but that was exactly what happened.

"Well, that just makes me feel the love." Jack spoke sarcastically from the other end of the table, drawing Craig's attention to him.

"Sorry." The boy muttered as he stood and picked up the chair, turning it upright and then setting back down in his own seat.

"What's the problem? You just lucked out." Jack grinned at him.

Craig looked at Jack skeptically, not sure of the meaning of his words.

"You can help me into the living room, and then you can bring your books in there and we can work on your shit in there." Jack spoke with a tone that sounded as if what he was saying should have been obvious to the boy without him having to say it.

"But Bobby said to bring my books to the dining room." Craig countered.

"Not if you're here with me. You need to stay with me. I might need something, and I want to sit in the living room." Jack grinned even wider than before. "Finish your sandwich and then we'll get everything moved into the living room."

Craig didn't feel much better at having to stay at home, but Jack did have a point, Bobby couldn't yell at him for moving into the living room, not when Jack had told him to go in there with him.


	25. Chapter 25

Okay, this is not exactly what I planned on, but Bobby and Angel just took over and did their own thing! Let me know what you think and I'll pass it onto them :)

Legal stuff still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 25: Gasoline**

Bobby walked around the house to the drive in the back and stopped next to the driver's door of the car that had once belonged to his mother. "Give me the keys." He held his hand out towards Angel, waiting for his request to be fulfilled, expecting it actually.

"Yeah, right," Angel laughed as he dug the keys from his pocket.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Give the damn keys. I'm driving." Bobby spoke with a commanding tone that might have worked on Craig, or perhaps even Jack, but Angel just shook his head. "I ain't shittin' with you Angel, give me the fuckin' keys." Bobby's voice rose slightly.

Angel just shook his head and shuffled through the snow past his older brother using the remote to unlock the door before climbing into the driver's seat. "There ain't no fuckin' way I'm gonna let you behind the wheel of my car man." He laughed.

"That ain't your car, its Ma's car, and I'm the oldest, so I'm driving. I always drive." Bobby was doing his best to sound as if he had the authority to demand the privilege of driving his mother's car.

"We all know what the fuck happens when you get behind the wheel of a car Bobby, and you ain't gonna wreck or blow up Ma's car." Angel had yet to pull the door closed, but he was looking up at the older Mercer with determination. "Just get your ass in the car and ride shotgun for a change. Let's have you be the one to stick his head out the damn window for target practice if we run into any gun play here."

Bobby pulled a face on his younger brother. "That's bullshit Angel; I'm a damn good driver." His voice rose slightly. "I always drive, you know that." He went on to yell about how he'd had his car since he was sixteen and had never had a scratch on it until now.

The whole time Bobby was yelling at him, Angel was replying to each and every statement he made in a quieter tone, but still with the stubbornness of a true Mercer. "Yeah, right, you had that car since you was sixteen cause the thing wouldn't run for six years and it took you that long to get it into some half way decent shape so that you could drive it. And then most of the time it wouldn't run when you needed it and you'd drive Jerry's car." He stopped to take a deep breath as Bobby was still ranting on about his driving skills, before finishing what he was saying himself, still speaking while Bobby was emphasizing his own point by waving his arms. "You tore up three of his cars before he got some sense and started hiding the fucking keys under his mattress so you couldn't sneak off with it at night. You're a good driver, you always drive? You drive us all freaking crazy is what you do. Any time you get behind the wheel of a car people run the other way. You dent and ding every vehicle you drive, and then you act like it ain't no big deal."

"I've been drivin' since I was twelve; I think I know how to handle a car!" Bobby was still yelling while Angel was still talking. "I was hotwiring cars when you were still learnin' how to read! I out ran some of the best hoods on the street, I'm pretty sure of what the fuck I'm doing behind the wheel of a car!"

"Yeah, and the owners never got them back either cause you'd drive them into the fucking river or wreck them on some side street, and then burn 'em. You ain't drivin' Ma's car!" Angel's voice finally rose to the same level as Bobby's with his last statement, each finishing at the same time, leaving the air around them in dead silence.

Both men stared at each other for a long moment before Bobby trudged around the car, both fists clenched at his side, giving in for the moment, but promising himself he wasn't giving up. By the end of their little trip he'd be behind the wheel of his mother's car. "I swear to God Angel Mercer I will bust you up for this." Bobby got into the passenger's side and slammed the door hard.

Angel just smiled as he pulled the driver's door closed. "Put on your seat belt." He ordered in a calm voice as he fastened his own belt securely.

Bobby glowered at the younger man, but pulled his seat belt on. "Yes mother." He spoke in his mimicking tone, making the sound as nasally as he could. "I can't believe you're so much like Jerry. You are starting to sound like him." He did not intend that to be a complement, but Angel grinned at him as he started the car.

"Maybe you should try it sometime, you need to grow up a little if you're gonna be playin' 'Daddy' to the kid." He laughed. "In fact, maybe you should buy yourself a Volvo man, since you are in the market for a new car. The way you drive, you might want a car that is so damn wonderful. Jerry says it's the safest car out there you know, Jerry says…"

Bobby couldn't stand it any longer. "Just shut the fuck up and drive the damn car Angel!" He yelled, not allowing his brother to finish his sentence. The sound of his brother's voice was starting to grate on his nerves.

Angel laughed and backed out of the drive. They were only driving for a few seconds before Bobby realized he hadn't checked on the most important element of their mission. "We got a can of gas in the back?" He cocked his thumb towards the back end of the car.

"No, we do not have a can of gas back there." Angel shook his head. "You don't have Cracker Jack with you to do the gas thing right, so let's just skip the gas thing." He spoke casually.

"Skip the gas thing? Are you serious?" Bobby cried out. "I only ask for one thing when we do this shit, and that's my can of gas. I need my gas." Bobby insisted, feeling a little naked without the security of knowing his can of gas was waiting for him. "We can get some so we have that as a backup plan."

"We are going to be confronting a bunch of punk kids who go home every night to Mommy and a warm supper. These ain't no seasoned hoodlums from the street. You go around pouring gas on these kids and some parent is gonna come after your ass with a sawed-off, and you know that. We don't need to do the gas thing this time. Let's save that for the fucker who's rounding these kids up and teaching them how to plant a fucking bomb with dynamite, how's about that?" Angel kept his voice calm, but the stubborn streak was returning.

"I want my gas Angel. If I have to get out of the car and walk to a gas station I will. I just want to know it's there." Bobby managed to keep his voice as calm sounding as Angel's, though deep down he was ready to burst. He was worried that Angel wouldn't give in on this, and he needed it. He hated not having control of the car, and he damn sure didn't like Angel wanting to stray away from a technique that had been proven effective many times for them in the past. He didn't care how young these kids were, they were still messed up in something big, he could feel it, and he was sure they weren't gonna get any answers by knocking on their front door and asking politely. Maybe scaring the shit out of them with some kind of real threat would help to straighten them out. He thought he could be doing the community a great service, reforming teenagers that had strayed from the right path by putting fear of God into them with a little harmless gasoline.

Angel sighed. "Okay, but only so we have it in case we really need it." He gave in and turned at the next corner, heading for the gas station down the street. "But we ain't gonna use it unless there's a real reason." Angel glanced at Bobby, who only gave him a sly smile in return. "I mean it Bobby, you ain't even gonna get it out of the car."

Bobby felt a weight lift off of his shoulders, relieved that his younger brother had finally seen some kind of sense in what he was saying. He waited until they reached the gas station before reaching his hand out to Angel.

"What the fuck are you begging for now?" Angel gave him an irritated look once the car was parked next to the gas pump.

"I need some money; I don't have any cash on me right now." Bobby explained as if it should have been obvious to the younger man. What else could he possibly want from him at that moment?

"Fuck that shit, I don't want the gas to start with, I ain't givin' you the money for it." Angel pointed towards the store front of the gas station. "They got a money machine in there, use it."

"I don't have my card. Just give me ten dollars and quit your whining. You're starting to sound like the kid, and he at least has an excuse." Bobby pushed. He couldn't believe Angel was being this difficult over a few bucks. "Hurry the hell up, it's getting close to the time for school to let out. We need to get this shit and get over there to see who we can find."

Angel mumbled some incoherent words under his breath as he leaned to one side to gain access to his wallet in his back pocket. He let out a huff, pulled out a five and held it out towards Bobby.

"I need at least ten Angel." Bobby pushed Angel's hand away.

"What the hell you need ten for? We ain't buying ten dollars worth of gas!" Angel cried out, not making a move for more money.

"I need to buy the fucking gas can you moron. It's not like I'm gonna carry the shit in my hands." Bobby let out his own exasperated huff.

Angel mumbled a few more colorful phrases as he pulled out a twenty and held it out. "I want my fucking change back." He warned in a loud, firm voice as Bobby hopped out of the car with a smile on his face.

Bobby ran into the store, anxious to get what he needed so they could get back on the route to the school. He found the gas can and handed the clerk the twenty to hold while he filled the can. He smiled at Angel as he walked back around the car, set the red plastic container on the ground next to the driver's door and started pumping the gas into it.

Angel rolled down his window while Bobby was pumping the gas. "How much is the can?" He asked.

"Five bucks," Bobby answered without looking up at his brother. "I'm getting five dollars worth of gas." He added to assure the man in the car that he wasn't spending all of his money.

"Damn well better give me my fucking change Bobby. I need that money. I promised Sofi we'd rent a movie and I'd spend the evening at her Mama's house since she can't be at home right now. That's my last twenty." Angel warned.

Bobby smiled at himself. Angel sounded as if he was about to give birth to chickens at that moment. The man was truly worried about having the money to spend on his woman. The eldest of the family couldn't help but chuckle as he realized Angel had just set his self up for some shit. He really wished his brother hadn't told him about his plans; it just made the temptation to have some fun with him too hard to resist. He stopped the pump at four dollars and fifty cents and looked at Angel. Yep, his brother looked relieved.

Bobby put the gas can into the back of the car and then went back into the station. He got his change back from the clerk and then headed straight to the back of the store, to the beer cooler.

Angel did not look happy when Bobby got into the car with the paper bag in his hands. He looked at Angel, fighting the urge to laugh at the expression on his face.

"What the fuck is that?" Angel grabbed the top of the bag and looked in. "You are shittin' me, right? You bought fucking beer and potato chips?" His voice rose to a level so high that it actually squeaked.

Bobby set the bag on the floor of the car between his legs. "What the hell's your problem?" He did his best to sound shocked by Angel's anger.

"I told you I needed that fucking money! I told you I had plans for that money! What the hell is with you? You don't listen on purpose man, or you just don't give a damn?" Angel's eyes narrowed into small slits as he yelled the words at Bobby.

"Oh come on man, we need something to keep us from starving while we're waiting." Bobby laughed.

"You really think it's gonna look normal for two adults to be sitting out in front of a school drinking beer? What the fuck is wrong with you Bobby?" Angel's mouth hung open. "Did I have any change at all?" He asked with a near growl underlying his voice.

Bobby laughed and pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket. He handed Angel a twenty and watched the features of the man's face change from pissed to a half grin. "You son of a bitch," Angel snatched the twenty from the man before it could be pulled back, and stuffed it into his own pocket. "Real funny ass hole," He muttered.

"I gotta have fun with my little brother don't I?" Bobby grinned at the man. "Hell, you really think I'd take the last of your money Angel?" He asked, half serious. He really hoped his brother trusted him more than that.

"You did when we was kids." Angel shook his head and started the car.

"Hell, I had to back then so you wouldn't spend it on stupid shit. Besides, I needed it more than you did." Bobby smiled and sat back in his seat.

Angel glanced over at him, a smile on his face now. "Put on your seat belt now." He spoke using the 'Jerry' tone he'd somehow acquired recently.

Bobby's smile fell from his face, but he pulled his seat belt on.

* * *

Craig sat on the couch next to Jack, thankful that he wasn't still in the kitchen. His butt was still feeling the effects of the kitchen chair. Jack had the television on, but the sound was turned down pretty low. With Jack's help, Craig was making better progress than he had been earlier. Jack seemed to understand the work better than Bobby or Angel had, and he was a little more patient when he explained things to the boy. Both were startled when the front door slammed closed and Jeremiah walked into the living room.

"What the hell are you doing studying in here?" Jerry looked at Craig and shook his head. "Where is Bobby?" He crossed his arms in front of his chest. He didn't look happy at all.

Jack quickly explained that Bobby and Angel had gone to try to find some of the boys from Anthony's gang.

Jerry shook his head. "He just can't let the police handle anything can he?" He sounded irritated.

"Don't be getting all pissed at Bobby. Green is feeding him information from his end too." Jack informed his brother. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? After the shit that went down last night you really gotta ask me that?" Jerry pulled the chair away from the fireplace and slid it over to the coffee table. He looked at Craig as he sat down. "You tellin' me Bobby let you study in here?"

Craig swallowed hard at the temptation to tell Jerry yes, but he wasn't the best liar. "Not exactly," He muttered.

"Let me see what you got so far." Jerry was taking up the role of his teacher, just as he always had. The man had helped him through most of his home work when he was younger, not that it had always turned out well.

Craig handed Jerry the lessons he'd completed and let him look over them.

"Mm-hmm," Jerry nodded his head as he checked each page. "Well, this is pretty good. You sure you're doin' this on your own?" He looked over the top of the pages, directly at Jack.

"He's doing it." Jack nodded his head. "I'm just answering questions if he's not sure about something." Jack held his right hand up. "I swear to God Jerry." He sounded a little irritated. "Damn, you worry about everything, don't you?"

"Awright then," Jerry handed the papers back to the boy. "You seem to have that under control, I was just checking. It ain't gonna do him no good if ya all do it for him, you know that." He sat back in the chair and sighed heavily, "No more problems?" He looked at Jack again.

"No, everything is cool right now." Jack shook his head and went onto explain to Jerry what Angel had found out earlier. It was the first Craig had heard anything about the man Jessup Winston, and he was interested in listening to Jack's account of what was going on with the man and Victor Sweet's property.

Jerry asked the expected questions, and Jack either shrugged his shoulders or gave him the best answer that he could. No, this Winston guy hadn't bought all of Sweet's holdings, but his name had come up. No, they didn't think he was the one behind what had happened the previous night, and no, they still didn't believe the group of kids pretending to be gangsters had come up with the plan themselves, despite their connection to Anthony, which gave them a connection to Stanley Miller, in a roundabout way.

"So Bobby figures they can find one of these kids and get some answers." Jerry nodded his head. "Same old Bobby has to have his fucking hands in everything, don't he? The last time wasn't enough for him."

"Just lay off Bobby. He's gonna find out what's goin' on, and at least this time he's letting Green know every move he makes." Jack spoke quietly.

"Really, so he called Green before he went off to hunt down teenage boys at a high school?" Jerry asked.

"I don't know, but if he didn't he will." Jack scowled at the man. "Just don't be so quick to judge him man; he saved your ass the last time, didn't he?"

"No, he didn't , he got my ass in deeper with his stunts." Jerry shook his head. "He ended up getting your shot and…" Jerry's voice trailed off as he looked over at Craig. He looked as if he hadn't meant to say the words.

Craig hated it when his brothers argued, and he hated the subject that they were arguing about even more. He looked down at the book in his hands, and he tried to ignore the look from Jerry, but he could feel his face growing hot and the frown that had burrowed deep into his features. He finally looked up at Jerry, feeling his brother's stare on him.

"Look, I'm sorry. That was way out of line." Jerry spoke calmly to the boy. "I just meant that…"

"Maybe if you had told Bobby straight up about what was going on it never would have gone as far as it did. He didn't know what was going on with you." Craig muttered the words, he didn't like Jerry bad mouthing Bobby, though he had to admit that he didn't like anyone bad mouthing any of his brothers, and he would have been defending Jerry if it were Bobby on the other side of the table at that moment saying things about him. "Who cares about that anyway? It's over." He knew that it was easier to say than to really feel. He didn't want to think about it, and he was trying his best to live his life with the memories and the nightmares that haunted him because of it now.

Jerry smiled a small smile and nodded his head. "You're right. Let's put it behind us. No more talk about it." He glanced at Jack and then back to Craig. The boy could tell by the look on his face that he was sincere. "Let's just sit here and work on your studies until they get back. I'm kind of anxious to hear what they find out."

Craig nodded his head and allowed Jerry to help him with some of his work while they waited.


	26. Chapter 26

Well, Bobby and Angel just don't want to give it up. I don't know why they keep doing their own thing, they certainly are not following my instructions!

Do not own, make no money, just having fun.

* * *

**Chapter 26: BobbyThinks and Angel Drives?**

Bobby let his body slouch down in the car seat while they waited for the school to let out for the day. He had a half a bottle of beer in his hand, and had eaten nearly half the bag of potato chips he had perched on the dash directly in front of him. Angel had declined the beer, saying something about having to drive.

Bobby frowned at the man, it wasn't the Angel he'd known and loved most of his life. He did have to admit that it was nice to see the man was settling down, and thinking about the future. He was thinking about a life with Sofi, Bobby knew that and he understood that. That was what he'd wanted for all of his brothers, to find a woman that they could bring home and make lots of babies with. Jerry had found the perfect woman, but Angel had found the lunatic of the neighborhood. He would never let Angel know that he truly did like Sofi. She had a spark in her that lit up Angel's eyes. Damn that sounded gay, but it was the fucking truth. He wanted his brothers to be happy and grow old with someone they loved.

He wanted it for Jack too, whether it was a woman like Camille, or one like Sofi, or some guy that was special to him. He chuckled to himself at his own joke. Yeah, he knew Jack wasn't gay, but hell that was just too much fun most of the time. The kid just opened himself up to all the harassment. Bobby had no choice but to keep it going, besides, Jack would think he didn't care if he didn't bring up the gay shit every once in a while.

Bobby rolled down his window while his mind continued to grind thoughts through his head. He had considered keeping that marriage option open for himself, especially after meeting Sarah at the hospital, but there hadn't been any time for him to really think about her since Jack and Craig were both home. He'd been hoping to give her a call once the holidays were over and he had both of his little brothers on the mend, but now he wasn't so sure if it was such a good idea to bring a woman into his life. His life seemed so fucked up right now, hell his life was always fucked up, no matter how hard he tried to straighten it out. He did want that kind of life though. He wanted a wife, and he'd even considered the baby thing and found it appealing, especially after spending so much of his time his nieces and with Craig.

He was regretting not having been a better brother to Craig. He shouldn't have tried to provide for him so much, and should have concentrated on getting to know him. He'd been trying to make things easier on his mother, and on the kid. He'd cheated himself and Craig in the end. They still had a long way to go to get to know about each other. He had to learn how to deal with a fourteen year old, and that kid sure as hell needed to learn how to deal with him. He never would have thought that he was so attached to the little shit either. Hell, he hated leaving him at home with Jack. He wished he was right there now where he could keep an eye on him. He knew he couldn't do that though. He had to let Craig be with his other brothers; he had to let him have some space. He couldn't let the boy cling to him so much, it happened too often. He was worried about the way he would seem to revert to a small child at times, but his mother had never seemed concerned with that. She had told him once that Craig wasn't the same as the older boys. He dealt with things differently, and his emotional age just wasn't as advanced as it should be, but it would catch up eventually. Bobby didn't understand that, and he figured that it should have caught up by now, damn, he was fourteen. He knew that when he was fourteen he didn't cry so easy, and when Angel was fourteen he hadn't cried like that. Hell, even Jack hadn't cried that much and he'd been a little pussy when he was younger.

The problem was every time something happened; Bobby wanted him to cling to him. He knew that, and he needed to make himself stop. He needed to get the kid to toughen up a little. Just a little though, he knew he had to keep him safe, and keep him close, but he had to let the kid grow a little at the same time, and find the strength that was inside of him, and it was there, Bobby had seen it and sensed it at times when it didn't seem to exist. He'd seen it out on the frozen lake, when they'd left him standing by himself next to the barrel with the fire. After the kid had told him all of shit Sweet had said and done to him, he'd known for certain that strength existed, it had to or the kid would have had to have been committed after going through that hell. Craig just needed to see it, and know that he had it.

"What the hell you in such deep thought about?" Angel's question brought the older brother out of his thoughts.

Bobby shook his head, "Me thinking? What the hell is wrong with you, I don't think, remember?"

Angel chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, well the bell just rang, and that means the sidewalks are about to fill up the pitter patter of teenage feet." He looked back towards the school. "Ain't seen no sign of anyone hanging out around here, have you?"

Bobby shook his head slowly, "Naw." He had been watching. Yes, he might have been thinking too, but he was still watching, and there hadn't been any sign of delinquent teenagers hanging around the school perimeter waiting for their little friends to be freed from their educational institution. He stared at the building, and found his eyes wandering to the side wall, where Craig had applied his own touch of art to the building. "You know, if you look real close, that looks a little bit like Sofi." He elbowed Angel with his left arm as he pointed towards his little brother's work of art with his right hand.

Angel shook his head. "You're full of bull, man." He leaned forwards slightly though and studied the naked figure closely. "Shit." He muttered. "That little shit."

Bobby laughed as Angel was obviously seeing the similarities. "You might want to ask your little brother where he's seen Sofi in that position!"

"Fuck you Bobby! That ain't Sofi." Angel shook his head and looked at his brother, but he did have a smile on his face. "Where does a kid learn to do that though?" He pointed to the painting himself. "With spray paint no less."

Bobby shrugged his shoulders, allowing Angel to change the subject. "I don't know, but he's got some talent, doesn't he? Jerry's right, he needs to go to college and learn what all he can do with that. He'll make himself rich and take good care of us for the rest of his life." Bobby was joking of course, but he did want the kid to go to college, he wanted him to be able to make something of himself. Something more than what Bobby had made for his self. Bobby Mercer had dreams at one time, but they had all been crushed when he was younger. The only thing he really had left was the hockey, and as much as he liked the sport, it hadn't been his first choice, not that he would tell any of his brothers that, ever. He'd just grown up soon enough to realize that you didn't always get what you really wanted. Damn it, he was gonna make sure that Craig did though. That was one thing he was promising himself.

It seemed every door of the school burst open at the same time, spilling teenagers of all shapes and sizes out onto the sidewalks and the side parking area. Bobby scanned the streets, but could find nothing out of the ordinary. "This ain't doin' no fuckin' good. I don't see anything that might look the least bit off. Do you?" He glanced over at Angel, who was watching something closely. "What? What do you see?" He asked quickly, following his brother's gaze towards the opening of an alley directly across from the side entrance of the school. Three boys around the age of seventeen or eighteen were standing there, and Bobby was sure they hadn't been there a few moments earlier. He hadn't seen them walking from the school either. "They come out of the school?" He asked quickly.

"No, man they came from the alley." Angel shook his head as two other boys walked across the street from the school, greeting their companions with high fives and friendly punches poked at arms. The group stood at the alley and talked for a long moment before turning towards the school. Bobby watched as the boys walked across the street, back to the school, and then turned and headed for the parking area. There were five of them total, and they seemed to following a set path, one they had walked routinely. They taunted a few of the girls as they walked past them, whistling and calling out some crude remarks that even Bobby could hear from the confines of the car.

"Where the fuck are they going?" Bobby muttered and started to open his door to follow them.

"Hold on, don't go runnin' after them. They are going into a fucking parking lot. I'd say they are going to grab a ride, so just calm down." Angel reached out and grabbed Bobby's arm, stopping him from exiting the car.

Bobby leaned forward so that he could get a better look past Angel. The boys walked towards the far end of the lot, and then seemed to disappear into the crowd of students and teachers crowding around the cars, trucks and vans. "Shit, I don't see them, can you see them?" He asked with a bit of irritation in his voice.

"I see them getting into a gold minivan." Angel's voices still remained calm.

"You have got to be kidding me." Bobby spoke, a bit amused by the thought of a group of kids trying to act like a bunch of tough hoods riding home from school in a gold minivan.

"No, man, they're pulling out on the other end of the lot." Angel started the car quickly. "Put your seat belt back on." He looked over at Bobby, who quickly tossed his bottle of beer out the open car window and pulled his seat belt down to fasten it quickly, not caring at the moment just how much like Jerry Angel was sounding, though it had been driving him crazy just a short time earlier. "Go go go!" He cried out, wanting his brother to fucking drive.

Angel pulled the car out onto the street and drove twenty miles an hour towards the cross street. The minivan was making its way up to the stop sign of the same street. Bobby could see the van was going to make it through the sign before they reached the intersection. "Would you fucking drive this thing?" He cried out, looking at Angel in disbelieve at the slow speed the man was keeping the car at.

"It's a school zone." Angel spoke cried out. "You want me to get pulled over by a cop with your fucking beer in the car in a damn school zone?"

"Jesus Angel, there ain't no cops around for a miles." Bobby spoke mockingly. "They're gonna make it through that stop sign and we'll never catch them."

At that moment a police cruiser drove past them on the street. Bobby swallowed back the long string of insults he'd been ready to let roll off his tongue.

Angel smiled and glanced over at Bobby. "Now aren't you glad you were wearing your seat belt?" He asked before letting out a soft chuckle.

"Oh you're a fucking comedian, aren't you Angel? Would you just drive the damn car?" Bobby hated it when he couldn't control what was going on around him, and right now he felt as if he had no control at all. It was beyond irritating because his younger brother knew his words and actions were getting to him, and he hated that.

Angel reached the stop sign and came to a complete stop, though there were no other cars at the intersection at that moment. Bobby looked down the street to the left, at the tail end of the van. "Hurry the fuck up Angel. Hell, you want me to drive? I'll show you how to drive this car. Let me behind that wheel and I'll show you some real skill, man." He was hoping that Angel would drop the law abiding citizen act, or better yet, that he'd give in and let him get behind the wheel.

Angel glanced at him, the smile gone from his face. "You want to see some fucking driving? I'll show you skill man; I'll show you real skill." The man's foot hit the gas, the rear tires spun with a loud squeal as he turned the steering wheel hard to the left. A fraction of a second later the car lurched hard to the left, slamming Bobby into the passenger door, his potato chip bag falling from the dashboard in front of him, spilling out onto his lap, the floor and the seat.

"Damn it Angel!" Bobby yelled as the car shot down the street after the gold minivan. "What the fuck was that?" He asked.

Angel laughed as the tail end of the van drew closer to them. "You wanted me to drive."

"No, I wanted to drive." Bobby countered.

"Just sit back and enjoy the ride." Angel laughed as he slowed the car down just behind the van. "You want to follow or stop them and start asking questions?"

Bobby didn't have time to think about an answer. The van came to a stop at the next corner, and the side rear door opened. One of the boys got out of the van and glanced back in their direction as he closed the door. He walked up to the passenger side front of the vehicle and said something before looking directly at Bobby, and then turning and walking down the street. Bobby felt a surge of adrenaline hit him. "They made us." He spoke quickly.

"No, they did not make us." Angel insisted, but at that moment the van's tires spun hard, sending dirt and debris into Evelyn Mercer's windsheld before the gold van shot straight forward, nearly hitting another car that had started through the intersection. The boy on the street started running hard in the same instant.

Bobby pulled off his seat belt and was out of the car just as Angel hit the gas and took off after the van. Bobby didn't have time to close the door as he ran down the street after the boy on foot. He did notice though that the motion of the car as Angel shot into pursuit of the van swung the door closed hard. He mental made a note to thank God for that stroke of good luck when he had the chance. The last thing he needed was to have to take the blame for the door getting banged up because he didn't close it. Never mind the fact that he had jumped out to chase down a juvenile delinquent who may be been a part of rigging his car to blow up. He hadn't expected Angel to take off like that either, he thought they'd both be thinking along the same lines, and go after the one lone kid.

Instead he was running full speed after the kid on his own. The street they were running down looked a lot like his street, a few kids on the sidewalks, walking home from school, the houses lined up in a neat line one each side. Snow piled up along both sides, a sickly, dirty brown color with spots of yellow giving away the homes that housed dogs. Half melted snow forming slush that spotted the street in most areas, but dry clear black top grayed out by the salt dropped to clear the winter weather's coating in other sections. This kid seemed to know exactly where he was going too. He must have lived on this street. The boy glanced back a few times, and Bobby was thankful for that, it was slowing him down, and giving the man a small advantage. He pumped all his strength into his legs, picking up some momentum.

The teenager turned at the next street, heading out of the neat and tidy neighborhood, and towards a cluster fuck of warehouses. Again Bobby was glad for that bit of luck. He knew a full grown man chasing a teenager down a residential street would stick out and someone was likely to try to stop him, thinking he was after the kid for some reasons that weren't so very honorable.

He was getting close to the kid as they reached the next cross street, almost within an arm's reach of him. He was stretching his right arm out towards him, about to grab the back of his green and white jacket right there in the middle of the intersection when a flash of gold caught his attention from his right. He looked up just in time to see the gold van only a few feet away, heading right at him and the kid. Instead of grabbing the boy, Bobby dove into him, knocking him out of the path of the van, rolling with him several times until both came to a sudden stop into the high curb that lined the street. Bobby heard the sound of breaks screeching and seen the familiar dark blue exterior of his mother's car sliding towards him in the slush covering that portion of the street.

He barely noticed the kid next to him shuffling on his hands and knees, moving away from him. His gaze was fixed on the car coming towards him, sliding sideways, his brother's wide eyes visible in the windshield, his mouth moving as if he were cursing. It was the longest six seconds of Bobby Mercer's life. The man mental calculated what actions he would take if it were him behind the wheel, and without thinking his body moved towards his right, in the opposite direction the kid had run.

The car smashed over the curb, into the large snow bank built up by the plows that had cleared the street and came to a sudden stop. Bobby cringed at the sound of his mother's car crashing into the wall of snow, expecting it to be a hard impact into the half melted icy mix. To his surprise the snow gave enough that the car jolted to an abrupt stop with no damage. He pulled himself to his feet and walked over to the car without hesitation, jerking the driver's door open. "What the fuck are you doing?" He started to yell at Angel. "That had to be the most fucked up run down I've ever seen!"

Angel was staring straight ahead at the wall of snow; his right hand emerged from the car slowly, the keys dangling from it. "You drive."


	27. Chapter 27

Thanks for reading, and the kind reviews! Let me know what you think :)

Legal stuff still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 27: Rats**

Bobby yelled at Angel to move to the passenger's side of the car before they lost the kid on foot all together. He could still see him running towards the end of the street, which dead ended into a tall chain link fence. He was sure he seen the kid crawling through a hole in the fence, though from that distance it was hard to be certain. Angel moved across the seat and the older of the two got in behind the wheel of the car, slamming the door closed. He started the engine and backed away from the snow bank Angle had used as a car stop only moments before.

"Did you see who was driving the van?" Bobby yelled as he switched the car into drive and hit the gas, aiming the front end of the car in the same direction the kid had run, towards the far end of the street towards a secluded warehouse surrounded by a tall chain link fence holding signs marking it as condemned.

"I was behind the van Bobby." Angel shook his head. "I didn't see shit. Did you see the driver? I mean he was right in front of you."

"The only thing I seen was his front grill, just before I saw you comin' at me trying to fucking kill me!" Bobby twisted the wheel hard, to his right as they approached the gate of the fence, planning on slamming on through, not thinking about the paint on the car.

"It ain't closed." Angel pointed to the gate as Bobby approached it.

Bobby never let off the gas in his turn and made contact with the metal gate, which swung open easily under the force.

"Watch Ma's car," Angel cried out. "I wasn't tryin' to kill you, I was tryin' to keep that guy off of you!"

"You just crashed it into a fucking curb of ice; you don't think you've already scratched the shit out of it?" Bobby drove through the abandoned parking lot and around to the back of the building where a walk through door was hanging open. "That's it!" He hit the break, bringing the car to a sliding halt directly in front of the door. He couldn't help but think this was too easy. They were shielded by the building, no one from the street could see them, and there was nothing in the rear except for fence and more buildings that were facing the street behind them. He shoved the gear shift into park and turned off the engine, pulling the keys from the ignition. "You got your protection?" He asked.

"Of course I do man." Angel patted his side before getting out of the car.

Bobby dropped the keys into his pants pocket as he opened his door and hit the snow covered ground, leaving the door wide open after him as he made his way to the back of the car. "Stupid shit! Trying to run me down in the street with a fucking van, I'll show 'em who the fuck their messin' with here!"

"No gas Bobby." Angel walked past him, pulling his gun from his belt as he moved closer to the door.

"We might need it Angel." Bobby looked at the younger man. "Put some real fear into the kid."

"We agreed on this man, no gas." Angel gave him a look.

Bobby let out a huff and followed his brother through the door of the warehouse, grumbling quietly to himself while grabbing his own gun from his belt. He knew he was going to regret his decision to go along with Angel, it didn't make any sense to him, but he'd let his little brother have his way this time. In the end he was sure he'd be proven right, just like he had been proven right with who should drive the damn car.

The interior of the building was dark, and damp, and there was an odor that Bobby couldn't quite identify that stung at his nose when they first walked in. Angel turned and looked at Bobby, neither man said a word, but Angel motioned to the back of the warehouse. There was a second structure there, covered in drywall, like a small two story, box shaped building sitting inside the larger facility. There were metal steps leading up to a door way, and there were two large windows minus any glass on the wall that held the door. Bobby nodded his head and let Angel walk off to one side, in search of another access to the second floor at the back of the building.

Bobby headed for the stairs, slowly, moving around empty shelves, and racks, and keeping his eye out for big rats. He hated rats. He strained his ears for any sounds, but there was nothing. He couldn't see or hear Angel and that was usually a good thing. What he assumed was office space above him didn't look as if it could be very big. The structure had looked like nothing more than a cheap box that had been built inside the warehouse. The painted drywall was stained and had holes, exposing the plaster inside. Some of it was crumbling, and looked as if it could fall at any moment. The flat space above the office had been used for storage at one time, the remains of old pallets and boxes were strewn about, but there was no signs of access to that space other than by a ladder or a big fork lift from the floor below.

Bobby reached the steps and looked around for any sign of his brother. He couldn't see him in the shadows the metal walls and racks seemed to cast in the already dark space. He moved past some large wooden crates that had fallen apart long ago, and a pile of rags and empty cardboard boxes, and started up the steps slowly, careful to step softly and make no sound. He reached the top of landing which consisted of heavy diamond cut steel weave sheeting. He stepped carefully on it, sure that it would give way at any moment and he'd fall straight through.

He made his way to the wall, and flattened himself against it, sliding towards the door. He was sure he heard scuffling on the other side of the plasterboard, and hoped it was the kid. If it was a rat he'd have to shoot it, there was just no way around that. The thought sent chills down his spine. He heard another noise behind him and snapped his head around to find Angel walking along a very fragile looking metal beam just above the stairs. The man was making his way towards the window at the far end of the wall. Well, this should be interesting, one of them coming through the door, the other coming through the window. So long as the one going through the window didn't fall off the fucking beam and break his damn neck. Bobby scowled at his brother, wanting to yell at the fool to get his ass down, but the sound of shuffling, and the slight creaking of the floor just opposite of him on the other side of the wall kept him silent. He eye balled Angel's progress, and waited until he was sure his brother was in position to jump before making his own move.

Bobby moved through the door quickly, his gun held out in front of him. "Hold it right there you punk!" He yelled into the dark shadows. He heard the boy's feet hitting the floor, apparently moving towards the very window that Angel was supposed to be diving through any moment.

He could see the boy's form against what little light was coming through from that window, and he recognized the outline of a gun being aimed at him. The flash from the muzzle seemed to hang in the air for a few seconds before the shot rang out, echoing against the drywall and bare wooden floor with a deafening roar. "Shit!" Bobby hit the floor, and rolled twice, until he found himself behind what felt like an overturned table, or at least part of one. He thought he heard a noise next to him, but his attention was drawn to a loud crash coming from the other side of the room, and then the simultaneous sounds of two bodies hitting the floor, or furniture, or whatever the hell it was. He moved quickly from behind his temporary shield, and joined the two bodies in front of the window. One was on the floor; the other was on top of him, holding him down.

"Angel?" Bobby thought it was Angel on the winning end of the struggle, but he wanted to be sure.

"I'm fine, what about you?" Angel asked as he stood, pulling the teenager up to his feet with him.

"I'm good. Where's his gun?" Bobby asked, but seen the weapon lying on the floor a safe distance from them. "Come on, let's get him out here where we can at least see the face of the dumb shit that tried to shoot me!" He grabbed hold of the boy's jacket and together he and Angel pulled the struggling youth out the door and down the creaking stairs to the cement floor below.

"Let go of me!" The boy sounded scared.

Bobby was glad for that bit of luck, he needed the kid to be scared if he was gonna talk. "You fucking shot at me!" He spoke in a loud and pissed off tone. "What the hell?"

"You were chasing me!" The kid tried to pull away from the men, but both gave him a hard push, sending him sprawling into the heap of old rags and boxes that Bobby had walked past previously at the bottom of the steps.

Angel's foot came down hard on the back of the green and white jacket and held the boy down. "Stop moving!" He spoke just as loud as Bobby.

The teenage stopped moving immediately. "I didn't do anything wrong, I swear, I didn't know she was only thirteen!" He called out under the pressure of Angel's shoe.

Angel and Bobby both looked at each other, confused by the words. "What the fuck you talking about youngster, we ain't got no sister." Angel looked down at the boy and laughed.

Bobby leaned over and gave the blond head of hair a smack. "You just shut the fuck up. I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but we do have some questions to ask and we want answers. Let's start with your name, I like to know the names of the ass holes that try to shoot me."

The boy remained settled for a moment, but he still looked scared, and tense. "You was gonna shoot me!" He called out before starting to try to twist out from under Angel's food again.

"No, no we weren't gonna shoot you. We don't shoot little boys, hell; we save that kind of shit for full grown ass holes. We just want to ask you some questions." Bobby spoke sarcastically as he looked up at Angel. "Now, you calm down." He looked back at the boy.

Several seconds passed before the boy stopped struggling as hard as he had been.

"Now, what is your name?" Bobby asked the question in a bit of a calmer tone, but he still waved his gun a little to be sure the kid could see it in the dim light.

"Terry," the boy spoke with a tremor to his voice.

"Okay, Terry, what's your age, seventeen, eighteen?" Bobby was happy to be getting some answers to the questions; it meant the chances of this kid telling them something they needed to know were pretty good.

"I'll be seventeen next month." Terry kept his gaze on Bobby's gun.

"You run with Anthony Miller, Terry?" Bobby asked.

Terry's gaze finally shifted from the pistol in Bobby's hands to the man's face. "Who's asking?"

"You don't need to know our names child. You just need to answer the fucking question." Angel applied a little more pressure to the boy's back. "You're gonna have fun explaining to your mama how a big ass shoe print got ground into your back, now ain't ya?" Angel laughed.

"Yeah, I run with Anthony." Terry spoke quickly. "But I ain't seen him much for a couple of weeks."

"Come on Terry, be straight with us. Word is the Street Kings are doing better than ever. Got them some real leader now, got some organization taking place." Angel eased his shoe off the boy's back. "They got someone teaching them about bombs and shit. What do you know about that?" He reached down and rolled the boy onto his back so that his face was visible.

"You're the Mercers." Terry let a small smile hint at his lips. "Man, I don't know shit about what went down at your place last night. I wasn't there." He was trying hard to keep his voice steady; that was clear.

"But you know what the fuck went down at our house." Bobby let his voice rise in level. "You know who the hell sent them, and why. Start talking to us."

"All I know is this guy has been paying Anthony some good money, and Anthony has been passing it onto the rest of us. I don't know details. We ain't ever met the guy, only Anthony and Dwayne ever talked to him. The guy took Anthony in after his brother died." Terry shook his head. "That's all I know. I don't get into the same shit they're getting into, the Street Kings ain't what they used to be."

"What kind of shit?" Bobby asked.

"Blowin' up cars kind of shit," Terry looked at Bobby with a mocking glare; his fear seemed to be receding.

"What other shit Terry," Bobby sounded as if he were losing his patience.

"This guy has them delivering 'packages'."Terry spoke with a hint of loathing in his voice. "He pays them good. The guys keep trying to get me to hang out with them, to go to the new meeting house, but I can't get away from home, and they know that. They don't push me to go with them, much. It's some place on the edge of the city, some kind of business this guy owns, and he keeps it stocked with booze and shit."

"Why can't you get away from home? Does your mama keep a tight rein on you?" Angel asked, looking amused.

"Yeah, and my Dad does too," Terry looked from Bobby to Angel. "I don't know anything else, I swear!" He cried out after a moment.

"You don't know where we can find your little playmates?" Angel asked, looking as if he didn't believe the boy.

"No, I don't. They don't hang around the neighborhood anymore. Where ever this place is, they gotta drive there, I know that. They meet up with some of us after school sometimes and tell us shit, like how much money they made last night, and what kind of job they got planned for the night. Anthony don't come around hardly at all anymore. He shows up for school a few times a week, but he don't stick around for the whole day, and he don't talk to anyone when he's there. It's like he's in some fucking trance."

Bobby's eyes narrowed. "So, what kind of job they got planned for tonight Terry?" He asked with a delightful tone. The kid had just given himself away.

"They said they got some meeting tonight, making plans for a big deal that's supposed to go down tomorrow, they did mention your name, and they said it was gonna pay them all big, none of them would have to worry about money anymore. They didn't tell me anything else. Tried to get me to go with them, but I told them I couldn't. Man, I don't want anything to do with it. If I could get out and break free of them I would. They aren't the same as they used to be." That time Terry's voice came out a bit softer, and sounded as if it were heartfelt. "I mean, I damn sure don't want to die young, like Dwayne and Eddie."

"They were in the car last night?" Angel remembered that one of the boy's names was Dwayne.

Terry nodded his head. "Yeah, Eddie wasn't even sixteen yet man. He was just a kid, the baby of the group. He was so excited about all this, thought he was getting in on a good deal, and now he's dead."

Bobby drew in a deep breath, "Who was driving that van you were in Terry? Where can we find them? I want some names of your little budies, start talking."

Terry looked surprised by the question. "The van," He spoke quietly. "That belongs to Mr. Jordan, the freshman class councilor." He went on to name the four boys he'd been with in the vehicle.

Bobby felt the color drain from his face. "Jordan was driving the van?" He could feel his blood start to boil.

"No, actually, one of the guys managed to get his hands on his keys today, and they decided to take it for a ride." Terry spoke the words just as quietly as before, and looked a little guilty. After a long moment he shook his head, "Okay, I took the keys, I was trying to impress them, they dared me to do it, and I did it, to keep them from riding me about not joining them with this new guy."

Bobby stared at the boy, trying to read the expression on his face. He looked as if he was sincere, and Bobby just wished he felt sure of it. He wanted to feel sure of it, wanted to believe the kid, and believe that Mr. Jordan, the same man that had put the fear of God into Craig had not been driving a gang of hoodlums around in his van.

"I think he's bein' straight with us, how 'bout you?" Angel asked, bringing Bobby out of his thoughts.

Bobby nodded his head. "Okay, Terry, you get your little ass home, and stay there. I'd suggest you stay clear of your buddies for a while, if they hear you was talking to us, you might not be long for this earth. Holiday break is coming up. Maybe you should think about telling your folks what kind of fucking trouble you've managed to get yourself into, so they can help you get out of it." He stepped back from the boy. "But I'll tell you right now, if I find out you've been lyin' to me, I'll come looking for you, and I will make you regret ever pullin' a fucking gun on me. Where the hell does a kid your age get a gun like that anyway?"

Terry didn't move from the pile of trash he was laying in. "The guys gave it to me a few days ago. I brought it here, so I'd have it for protection from ass holes, seein' as how I'm on my own most of the time lately." He gave Bobby a hateful look.

Bobby grinned. "Well, you might as well forget it now. It's goin' with us. You get your ass out of here, go home."

Terry looked up at Angel, and then back at Bobby as if he didn't believe they were going to just let him go that easy.

"Go on, kid, move it, before my brother here changes his mind and decides to get his can of gas out of the car and light your ass on fire." Angel gave the teen a slight kick, inspiring the boy to his feet and at a quick run almost instantly.

Bobby laughed as he watched Terry disappear out the side door. He turned and looked at his brother. "Well?" He asked.

Angel shook his head, "Well, we got a little info out of him, didn't we?" He returned Bobby's gaze. "We pretty much already knew what he told us."

"No, he said Anthony was living with this guy, whoever he might be. Something big is being planned for tomorrow, and it involves us somehow. We got names too, we can pass them onto Green. We need to find Anthony and find out exactly what the fuck is goin' on." Bobby looked at the steps. "Why don't you go back up there and get that gun?" He asked.

Angel looked put out by the suggestion. "Why don't you?"

"Because I'm the oldest, and that carries privileges. Like, driving the fucking car," Bobby grabbed the keys from his pocket and held them up. "The next time I tell you to let me drive, you had best listen to me. I drive the fucking car for a reason, mainly so I don't get run down by it."

Angel gave Bobby a dirty look and turned to walk back up the steps. "What the hell you doin' diving out of a moving car to start with?" He asked.

"It wasn't moving when I jumped out of it!" Bobby called out to him. "What the hell were you thinking, taking off after the van when there was a lone runner? You know the best thing to do is go after the one that's alone! And he was on foot, he was easier to catch!"

"Easier to catch until that fucking van turned on your ass," Angel disappeared through the door way at the top of the stairs.

"That van wouldn't have had the opportunity if you had stayed with me in the fucking car!" Bobby called out.

A single gun blast rang out from the room above.

"Angel?" Bobby called out; worry weaved in his voice as he headed for the stairs.

Angel came back into view at the top of the stairs. "Man, there was fucking rat in there behind that table." He shook his head and started down the steps.

Bobby felt the chills hit his spine. Damn, he'd been right on that floor behind the table a short time before. He hated rats.


	28. Chapter 28

Thanks for reading, and for the reviews! Keep letting me know what you think, even if there's something you don't llike, input is always welcome!

Legal stuff still counts.

* * *

**Chapter 28: Hard Choices**

Craig watched as Jerry and Jack set up the checker board for a game. Jerry had checked all of his lessons, and then had helped him finish several more. With Jerry and Jack's help he had managed to complete fourteen of the assignments, and Bobby said that if he finished at least ten and they were done well that he wouldn't have to study any more after four, so he had closed up his books and was enjoying having some free time to let his brain recover from having to concentrate for so long with no real break. Four o'clock came and went with no word from Bobby or Angel, and Jerry kept looking at his watch. He called Camille at four fifteen to check up on her. She was at her mothers with the girls, and it seemed he planned on her staying there for a while, because he told her he missed her, and he'd keep her informed about what was going on. Craig could tell both of his older brothers were starting to worry about the missing members of their family when four thirty came around and the checker game had barely advanced past six moves. Jack would glance at Jerry, who would look at his watch and mumble the time.

Craig snatched up the remote control and started flicking through the channels, just to keep his mind off of Bobby and Angel's absence. He could feel his brothers' worry, and it was making him worry. He glanced over at the checker game a few times, and the last time he did he caught Jerry and Jack looking at each other. Just moments later the sound of the back door closing brought the attention of all three of them up to the dining room door.

"I don't care; you are never driving me anywhere again!" Bobby's voice filled the house. "You ain't driving me to the fucking store, you ain't driving me to the damn corner up the street; I don't trust you."

"Would you just leave it alone?" Angel walked into view in the dining room first, followed closely by Bobby.

Both men stood in the doorway and looked at the remaining three brothers who were staring at them, Craig was sure Jerry and Jack wanted to ask where they had been, what they had found out, and what the hell the two of them were arguing about this time. He was hoping one or both of them would start asking questions soon, his own curiosity was getting to him, and he was well aware that Bobby wouldn't tell him anything if he asked.

"Well?" Jerry stood quickly and walked over to where Angel and Bobby stood. "What happened? What did you find out?"

"I found out our brother can't drive worth shit." Bobby nodded his head and flicked a quick glance at Craig. "What are you doing in here? I told you the dining room." He looked back at Jerry and then turned his full attention to Craig.

"Jack said…" Craig started to explain why he was in the living room and not where Bobby had wanted him.

Bobby looked at Jack. "I told you the dining room." He spoke a little gruffer than Craig had expected, and apparently more than Jack had expected as well.

"I was getting tired, and I wanted to come in here where it was more comfortable. I didn't think you would mind as long as he did his work." Jack seemed surprised by Bobby's obvious aggravation, but didn't seem worried.

"Get your books together and get them to the kitchen where they belong. You ain't even working on anything and it's not five o'clock yet." He turned back to Craig.

"You said I could stop at four if I finished enough of the lessons, I finished more than you said." Craig found his voice coming out a little weak, not sure why Bobby was so upset. He knew he was probably upset about something they had found out, and not at him, but he still felt the sting of his brother's angry voice.

"I'm glad to hear that, I really am, but I want your ass in the kitchen for now. Just get you shit together and move your ass in there until I come for you." Bobby seemed to be trying to hold in a yell.

Craig felt a little frustration of his own building up. "That's not fair, you said…" He started to argue, but he stopped himself, stood and started gathering up the books and papers that were on his end of the coffee table.

"Bobby, just lay off of him, he did the work you wanted him to." Jack spoke quickly.

"Yeah, man, and he did pretty damn good too." Jerry spoke quietly, keeping his gaze on Bobby. "If you want him out of the room so we can talk, then maybe you should just say that." He kept his voice quiet so Craig couldn't really make out all of the words.

Bobby drew in a deep breath and stepped past Jerry over to the boy. "I'll help you carry these." His voice was quiet.

Craig didn't look up at his brother as he stood with his books loaded in his arms. "I got it." He muttered; feeling irritated at the man.

"Look, I just need to talk to your brothers for a few minutes; that's all." Bobby rested a hand on Craig's shoulder to get his attention.

Craig looked up at Bobby and could see the frustration that had been written on his face a moment before had softened slightly. "Why can't I hear what you have to say?" He wasn't trying to argue with his brother, he just wanted to know what was going on as bad as any of them.

"I'll tell you all about it after we talk for a few. You just go to the kitchen, do one more lesson. That's all I'm asking, okay?" Bobby sounded much calmer. "You gotta give me something to work with here Craig; I haven't had the best afternoon. I had a car nearly run me down and then Angel tried to finish the job. I was shot at and then found out I shared some space with a fucking rat. I'll tell you all about it in just a little bit, okay?"

Craig wanted to tell Bobby no. He wanted to tell him he had a right to know everything that had happened, just as much a right as Jack and Jerry had, but he didn't say it. He felt a little hurt and left out, but he didn't argue with his brother any further on the subject, he stepped past him and walked through the foyer to the kitchen.

He emptied his books onto the table and sat down in the chair Bobby had been so adamant that he sit in earlier that day. He strained his ears and could hear voices, but he couldn't make out the actual words that his brothers were exchanging. It wasn't fair that Bobby wouldn't let him stay in the room to hear what had happened and what they had found out. Obviously there had been plenty that had happened from what Bobby had said to him. The longer he thought about it, the more unfair it seemed to him. His brothers couldn't seem to make up their minds. That morning Bobby had told him everything that Green had found out, and when Angel had gotten home from his scouting around he'd been told what he'd found. They had included him then, why couldn't they include him now? Of course Bobby hadn't let him hear Angel's account of what he'd found, they had waited until lunch, and he had no way of knowing if they had told him everything.

That thought brought on the notion that his brothers probably weren't being totally honest with him, just giving him bits and pieces of what they knew; not including him, not really. They had conveniently left out the name of a man that had bought at least one of Victor Sweet's businesses, Jessup Winston. He hadn't heard about that until he'd listened to Jack telling Jerry. What else hadn't they let him in on? He wanted to feel as if he belonged, but if they weren't going to include him, and tell him everything, then how could he possibly really fit in? They were going to keep treating him like a little kid. A voice in the back of his head that sounded hauntingly like Bobby spoke to him, telling him that they were treating him like a small child because he seemed to be acting like a small child an awful lot lately.

He sighed as he begrudgingly opened his history book to start reading the next chapter. Bobby had asked him to do just one more lesson, and he had a feeling deep in his gut that it really hadn't been a request.

* * *

Bobby sat next to Jack on the couch while Jerry returned to his seat in the chair, and Angel pulled the other chair over to the coffee table so that they could talk quietly. "So what the hell happened?" Jerry asked the question after a few moments of silence.

Bobby gave Angel his irritated stare for a second before he looked at Jerry and Jack. He explained calmly about how they had followed the van, and the events that followed that led them to the warehouse.

Jack looked at Angel. "You almost ran him down with the car?" There was slight grin on his lips, "Really?"

"No, I did not almost run him down; I lost control in some ice that was still on the fucking street. I was tryin' to catch up to that van and Bobby got in the way." Angel spoke indignantly.

"I was lying in the fucking street." Bobby looked at the man with no emotion on his face. "I got in the way?"

"You should have kept your ass in the fucking car!" Angel was struggling to keep his voice quiet so that it didn't carry into the kitchen. "Don't be telling Craig I tried to kill you man, that's just wrong."

Bobby shook his head, "I should have been driving to start with."

"Come on, man, stop the bullshit. What did you find out?" Jerry pushed for Bobby and Angel to stop their bickering.

Angel drew in a deep breath and relayed the information young Terry had been so quick to volunteer to them.

"Something big is being planned for tomorrow and the name Mercer was mentioned." Bobby spoke once Angel had finished, hoping to put some emphasis on the meaning of the statement.

Jerry sighed heavily. "That means it's not safe here." He shook his head.

"That means that we need to get Jack and Craig the hell out of this house." Angel nodded his head.

"Wait a minute; I'm old enough to take care of myself." Jack countered quickly. "We need to get Craig out of the house."

"You really think he is gonna want to go anywhere if Bobby ain't there?" Jerry looked pointedly at Bobby. "Man, it's already been tried, he don't do well if you aren't nearby." He shook his head.

"He can't stay here. He's gonna have to spend some time away from the house." Bobby sounded as if saying the words were slicing through his insides. "This isn't like before. When he went to your house from the hospital he was an emotional wreck and we didn't see that. This time, he's okay, he's able to think and use some common sense." It was obvious that he'd been wrestling with the decision before he'd ever gotten to the house.

"We talked about it, and your house probably ain't safe either." Angel looked at Jerry. "Where are Camille and the girls?"

"They are staying at her mothers." Jerry spoke quietly. "I say you all come to my place. No one needs to be in this house for the time being, not until we figure this out."

"Look, your house ain't safe Jerr'." Bobby sat back into the soft cushions of the couch. He motioned at Angel and then back to his self. "We think this about your project. We think that whoever is moving in on Sweet's holdings is gonna try to strong arm you into making the deal with them that you wouldn't make with Sweet. If anything, your place is probably the least safe house for any of us to be in."

"You two have been doing some talking?" Jerry shook his head, "Man, I ain't had no out of the way calls, no one has approached me with any threats or deals. What went down last night went down here, not at my house. I say this is revenge for what we did to Sweet."

"Could be a little of both. Could be you all pissed off someone Sweet worked with." Jack shrugged his shoulders, and then pulled a face at the pain it seemed to have caused in his chest. He rested a hand close to his drainage tube and then adjusted the awkward plastic hose.

"You okay Cracker Jack?" Bobby asked his younger brother quickly, not missing the tension in the younger man's throat.

"I'm fine. It's getting close to my pill time." Jack forced a weak smile and looked at his brothers, all three of them staring back with concern on their faces. "I'm fine, stop looking at me like that, damn. You'd think I'd been shot or something," He laughed at his own joke, breaking some of the tension his brothers seemed to be feeling.

Angel grinned, and Bobby just cursed quietly under his breath. Jerry however kept his gaze fixed on Jack. "And you think you can stay in this house and take care of yourself when shit starts hitting the brick?" He pointed to one of the patched bullet holes. "It ain't happenin'. We're getting your ass out of here along with Craig's."

Jack looked as if he were going to argue at first, but then he nodded his head slowly, "Okay, but where the hell we goin'? You all just pointed out that Jerry's house wasn't safe." He reminded them.

Angel and Bobby exchanged a long, knowing look before turning back to Jack. "Well, Jack, we talked about that too. We already called and talked to someone, and there is a place we can take both of you." Bobby spoke in an overly cheerful tone.

Angel grinned wide, "Yeah, and there's all sorts of good food to eat, and someone will be there to clean that drain shit all up for you." He added.

* * *

Craig was startled by the high pitched sound of Jack's voice from the living room. "Hell no, you can't make me go!" The man was nearly screaming the words. "That just ain't right!"

"Jack, there ain't no choice here." Angel's voice rose enough that the boy could hear it loud and clear. The next sound was Jerry's hysterical laughter.

Craig didn't have a chance to ponder on his confusion before Bobby appeared in the doorway. He looked up at the man, hoping his presence meant he was going to tell him what was going on.

Bobby stood in the doorway of the kitchen for a long moment, meeting the boy's gaze before he walked over to the table and sat across from him. "Look, I'm sorry, but I wanted to tell you about this, just you and me." He spoke carefully. "Okay?"

Craig didn't respond to the man. He didn't divert his eyes from Bobby's face as he closed his History book, and he didn't make a sound. He wasn't sure he trusted Bobby to really tell him everything, but he was willing to listen to what he was going to say, for the time being at least.

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "Do you know a kid, a blond boy, named Terry that hangs out with Anthony, a part of the same gang?" He asked the question slowly.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know; I didn't really know anyone else in that group." He muttered.

Bobby nodded his head, looking a little relieved for some reason. He went onto tell Craig how he and Angel had followed a van full of punks who seemed to fit the profile teenage gang members. He told how the one kid, Terry, got out of the van, and how they had been spotted then. He told Craig how he'd ran after the boy while Angel took off in the car after the van. He even told how he had nearly been run down by the van just as he was catching up to the kid on foot, and how he'd then had to dodge Angel's driving skills. He was using colorful descriptions, and cussed Angel for his actions, but the man was laughing as he described the saucer sized eyes of Angel as the car grew close to running him over. If Craig hadn't felt angry with his brother at that moment he probably would have been laughing hard, but he didn't find it amusing, not at the moment.

Bobby stopped talking for a moment, and seemed to be waiting for the boy to respond to his description with some kind of remark, or at least a laugh, but once he seemed sure Craig wasn't going to comment in any way he continued to tell the boy about chasing the Terry kid to an abandoned warehouse, which was where the kid had pulled a gun and shot at him. Then Bobby's voice grew very serious as he repeated what Terry had told them.

Craig studied Bobby's face as he spoke. He was looking for any sign that his brother was leaving something out, but he couldn't tell. He wasn't sure if Bobby was that good at lying, or if he just didn't know his brother well enough to tell if he was being completely honest with him. He could easily tell when Bobby was pissed, but when it came to reading whether he was being honest with him, he wasn't sure.

He found his mind hanging on every word Bobby was saying about Anthony, and how he wasn't acting right in school. He was living with some guy who was taking care of him, but was putting him to work doing illegal shit, which seemed to include trying to harm the Mercer family, and that just didn't sound like the Anthony he knew. It didn't sound like his friend at all, and that was more frightening to him than hearing that something big was being planned for the next day, and it seemed it was going to be aimed at the Mercers.

Someone was out to try to harm his brothers, and Anthony was part of it? It just didn't make any sense to him. "Why don't you find Anthony and talk to him?" Craig asked the question while Bobby was in the middle of describing how Angel had shot some stupid rat, and he really didn't care to hear about a dead rat.

Bobby stared at the boy, and nodded his head. "That's exactly what we want to try to do, but he ain't been hanging out in his usual places, and no one seems to know who this ass hole is that's got him all wrapped up in this bullshit or where he's stayin'. No one knows shit." His voice was quiet.

Craig looked down at his book, and started picking at the binding, not sure if Bobby was done talking or not.

"Look, I know you're worried about Anthony right now, but we got bigger things to concentrate on here. Someone out there is planning on bringing more shit down on this family, and it's my job to keep you safe, all of you; you, Jack, Angel and Jerry. So we need to figure out the best way to do that." Bobby leaned forward across the table. "If they bring trouble to this house I don't want you here to be in the line of fire. You get my meaning here?"

Craig slowly raised his gaze to meet Bobby's. "You want me to stay at Jerry's?" He asked, not liking the idea at all.

"I just told you, Jerry's in as much trouble here as the rest of us. He doesn't have his own family in his home; you think that house is gonna be a safe place for any of us?" Bobby was talking slow and calm.

"Then what do you mean?" Craig felt more confused.

"We need to get you and Jack someplace where we don't have to worry about you. We'll stay here and try to draw these roaches out of the woodwork, but you and Jack can't be here if we get the same kind of action we got before." Bobby reached out and grabbed Craig's hands, stopping the boy from tearing the binding on his book any further. "Angel came up with a good place, but I need for you to go there with Jack and keep an eye on him. You know how I feel about other people messing with my little brother, and you know how he can be sometimes." Bobby forced a smile. "It's a hard choice for me to make Craig, but I gotta keep you safe. Believe me; no choice has ever been harder for me than this one."

"Where are we going?" Craig asked quietly, not liking the look on Bobby's face at that moment.

* * *

Angel had managed to get Jack calmed down, and Jerry's laughter had died down to occasional chuckles. The three of them were waiting quietly; each seemed to be involved with their own thoughts on what was happening around them, and the plans that needed to be made.

The air of the house filled with Craig's loud voice, shattering the silence, "I'm not staying with Sofi!"

Jerry's laughter filled the room once again, and Angel looked over at him, and then turned to Jack. "What the hell does everyone have against my woman?" He cried out.


	29. Chapter 29

Thanks for the nice reviews, it's appreciated! Keep letting me know your thoughts :)

Legal stuff still counts.

* * *

**Chapter 29: A Twist**

Craig stood from the table, stepping back from it when Bobby stood. "I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay right here." He shook his head, keeping his voice quiet, unlike a moment before when his shock had overtaken him and he'd actually yelled at his older brother.

"Craig, you're going. You and Jack both are going to stay with Sofi and her mother until we can figure out what the hell is going on." Bobby didn't make any moves towards him.

Craig was thankful that the man seemed to be letting it slide that he'd just raised his voice to him. "Where are you and Angel staying?" He asked.

"We're gonna stay here, and Jerry's gonna stay with us. It's better if we're together. We'll be out of the house mostly anyway, trying to track down some of these punks. That kid, Terry gave up a few names, so we might luck out and managed to get a hold of one of them that knows more than he did. We might be able to catch up to Anthony that way. You want us to find him, don't you?"

Craig couldn't stop himself from saying what came next. "I want to stay with you." He had just been thinking about how much he wanted his brothers to treat him more like his age, and there he was sounding like a little kid, again. He wanted to scream at himself at that moment, but that certainly wouldn't help to give his brothers a reason to see he wasn't a small kid, and that he could help them find Anthony.

Bobby looked as if he were at a loss for words, but only for a second. "Look, Craig, I want you at home with me, where I can keep an eye on you, and know that you are safe, but part of keeping you safe is keeping you out of the way if something dangerous is going down. I messed up before, I took you with me everywhere we went, and that really wasn't a good thing." He drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "This ain't easy for me either, and it damn sure ain't easy for Jack. I need you to watch out for him, can you do that for me?"

"Why can't we both just stay here? Jack doesn't want to go, does he? We can stay upstairs, out of the way, and keep all the doors locked. We won't come out for anything, and…" Craig couldn't hold back the urge to try to talk Bobby out of shipping him off, to get him out of the way.

Bobby shook his head and spoke, cutting Craig's words off before they'd been finished. "No, Craig. You weren't in this house the last time it was blasted full of bullets, trust me, there is no safe place when bullets are coming through and hitting everything in sight. I will not have you around here if there is a chance of that happening again, or if there's a chance that the next time they decide to put their dynamite in the house instead of a fucking car." His voice was taking on a more firm tone, signaling that he wasn't in the mood to discuss other options; he'd made up his mind. "I have already thought about it, and believe me the best thing is for both of you to be out of this house and somewhere safe."

"Why does it have to be with Sofi?" Craig asked quietly, feeling as if an empty hole was opening up deep in his gut and sucking his insides down.

Bobby finally stepped around the table and rested a hand on each of the boy's shoulders. "Craig, don't you dare tell anyone I said this, if you do, I swear I'll deny it." He looked serious.

All Craig could bring himself to do was to nod his head.

"I wouldn't trust anyone else to keep an eye on my little brothers right now." Bobby sighed. "Sofi loves Angel and hell, I will never admit to him or her, but she's okay. She stuck with him even after bein' in this house with bullets blowing out walls, and she played a part in helping us get you back. It might not be official yet, but she's fucking family. She ain't afraid to fight if she needs to, and she cares about both of you. I wouldn't trust anyone else with you or Jack, you got that?"

Craig felt tears trying to force their way out. It was obvious Bobby wasn't going to back down from t his decision. "But I want to stay with you." He repeated what he'd said just a minute before. "You don't even know if something is going to happen."

"I'm not taking the chance. You are going to do what I tell you on this. I don't like not having you home either. Don't make this harder Craig, please don't do that?" Bobby didn't sound angry, he sounded as if here were pleading with the boy not to argue about it anymore.

Craig nodded his head slowly and looked down at his feet.

Bobby pulled him close to him and wrapped his arms around him in a loose hug. "Don't worry; it won't be for long, just a night or two. I promise."

Craig nodded his head again. "Okay." He muttered, not really caring how long it was, just one day was too long for him, but he wouldn't argue about it anymore, it was obvious arguing wasn't going to get him anywhere with his older brother. At least Jack would be with him, and he had to watch out for Jack, like Bobby had asked.

* * *

Bradley Jordan put his van in park and looked up at the building in front of him. It was a warehouse, but it was on the outskirts of the city, not much of anything around besides this place. The old rusted sign above the cargo door read 'Highland Park' Plastics. The large doors were open, and the place looked completely abandoned. He glanced at the boy sitting next to him in the front seat, and then back to the other three boys behind him. They had each held a stone cold expression. "This is the place?" He asked in a quiet, nervous voice. He didn't understand why he had to be there. He had done what Macks had wanted from him. He'd called when the kid came to the school. What else could the man possibly want from him? He reached up with his right hand and used his index finger to push at the taped up rim of his glasses, forcing them back up to rest at the top of his nose.

Jacob Robinson, sitting next to him on the front seat opened his door and smiled. "Yeah, this is it." He was smiling, but his voice didn't sound very pleasant. "Come on, the boss is waitin'."He got out of the van, slamming his door hard.

Jordan drew in a shaky breath. He'd hoped the close call with Bobby Mercer would scare the boys out of forcing him to drive out to bum-fuck-Egypt, but they hadn't been frightened in the least, in fact, they had seemed quite thrilled with the adventure that had been laid out before them. He knew it was Bobby Mercer that he'd nearly run down in the street, he'd recognized him easily, he just prayed the man hadn't seen him behind the wheel, hadn't known it was him that had nearly killed him, or that it was him that had a van full of hoodlums.

In the beginning he'd been surprised that these boys, once pleasant and enjoyable young men, were a part of a gang. They seemed so different now than they had been just six short months earlier. Terry Adkins was the most surprising change. His mother was seriously ill, and he'd talked to the boy quite a few times, trying to help, he truly wanted to help him. But now the kid seemed so cold. The sound of his voice when he got out of the van and announced that the Mercer car was behind them still echoed in the man's head. "I'll get them off your ass; you just get the hell out of here and get out to the meeting house, boss man is waiting. I'll be there later."

"What if they catch you?" Jacob had asked his friend.

"Well I guess I'll just have to play them for all I can then, won't I?" Terry had sounded so damn frightening at that moment that Jordan had wondered if he'd ever really known him at all. "I'll feed them the line that the boss wanted them to hear, it will be the perfect chance to set them up like he wanted."

That was when Terry had turned and walked away, and Jordan had done exactly what Jacob told him to, he'd hit the gas and drove like a crazed idiot, hoping to get as far away from Bobby Mercer as he could. He didn't want the man to catch him with a car full of hoodlums, it could cost him his reputation, and that was already in danger. It could cost him his job, his family, his life. He couldn't risk it. He hadn't expected the car to come after him. He had seen Bobby Mercer take off after Terry, but he'd expected the car to turn and go after the teenager as well. He had no idea who was left in the car to chase him down; he just knew he had to get away from it.

The boys had started yelling at him to lose the car, to make turns, or slam on his breaks to force the car to crash into his back end. He was confused, and his mind seemed to snap back into the past, to his secret past. He had seen the direction Terry had run, and circled the block with the blue car close behind him, picking up speed. He had diverted into a couple of alleys, and at one point he was sure he was gonna be able to lose his chaser by running through a couple of yards, but the car stayed right with him despite the rough ride it had to cause for the driver. He hit the street that he knew Terry lived on and headed up the slippery blacktop with his foot pushing the gas pedal down to the floor. He felt his back end trying to fishtail on him, but he didn't slow down. To his surprise the boys' cheers actually gave him a rush of pride, and he didn't want to screw up and get them all caught.

He was a little surprised when first Terry and then Bobby Mercer ran in front of him at the oncoming intersection, and he'd wanted to hit his breaks, he didn't want to hurt anyone, least of all a teenage boy, but Mercer had made a dive, knocking Terry out of the way as he sped past them, running the stop sign in front of him. He didn't slow down, but he looked in his mirror in time to see the car losing control and heading straight at Bobby Mercer who was still lying in the street. He did see Terry running towards the dead end, towards the run down, abandoned building at the end of the street, and he felt a little better. The boys in the van had actually seemed impressed with his driving, and had told him he did well. He'd never thought the opinions of kids would mean so much to him, but it had caused him to swell with a feeling of self worth. Kids usually didn't have much respect for him. The teenagers at school whispered things behind his back, he knew that, but at that moment these boys were telling him what a good job he did at losing the tail that had been on them.

Then Jacob had started telling him where to turn and what direction to drive. Now he was sitting in front of a building in the middle of nowhere, and the boys were back to treating him like some idiot. He didn't want to go in; he didn't want to find out what Macks wanted from him. He just wanted to go back home to his wife, and forget about Adam Macks and the threats the man held over his head.

Jordan waited until the boy's in the back of the van piled out; still talking about the wild ride they had been on. He opened his own door, pulled his keys out of the ignition and climbed out of the car, hoping his trembling hands weren't evident to anyone watching him. He straightened out his green and yellow plaid jacket and matching slacks, and pushed his glasses back up into place once more. He followed the boy's through the large door, surprised that there was no cement beneath his feet once they were inside, only dirt. The doors on the far end of the steel walls were standing wide open, letting the cold air run through as if it were a tunnel. There was an area in the center where a fifty gallon drum sat with a fire burning. There was a couch and some mattresses placed around the barrel, a table set at the end of the arrangement holding a stereo system, the cords running up to an extension cord hang from an outlet in the ceiling. The whole area was littered with empty beer can and cigarette butts.

The boys led him over to the left side of the building towards what appeared to be offices. Instead of going through the door they diverted their path to the heavy metal stairs that led downward, under the building. The apartment he found himself in was a deep contrast to the abandoned run down feel of the facility above. The room he found himself in looked like a picture out of one his wife's decorating magazines, the deco style and design she craved was far beyond anything he could ever afford to offer her, but she loved to dream. He was surprised to find Macks had the same taste in furniture and color as his wife, and the thought turned his stomach.

The boys led him through a kitchen which was far less extravagant, and then back into an office where he found Adam Macks sitting at a desk, playing a video game with another boy, Anthony Miller, on a computer. The two of them were cussing and laughing, until they noticed that the group was entering the room.

Macks put down his game remote and reached out to grab the computer mouse and turn off the game. The man looked at Anthony and smiled. "We'll have a rematch later. You take your buddies out to watch some T.V. or something." He spoke in a pleasant tone; the first time Jordan had ever heard the man actually sound nice.

A strange look crossed Anthony's face as the teen looked at Jordan, but he stood slowly and led the other boy's out of the room without saying a word. The boy closed the door behind him.

Macks looked at Jordan and the smile faded from his face.

"Why am I here? I did what you asked me to. I…" Bradley Jordan prayed the fear wasn't showing in his voice.

"You fucked up Brad, my friend." Macks laughed, but it was not pleasant. "I told you to call me when my son was in your school. You waited until he left before you bothered to give me a call."

"You never specified…" Jordan started to speak, but Macks held up his hand, silencing him instantly.

"You owe me. You need to get back into my good graces my friend." He smiled wide and his yellowed and half rotten teeth turned Bradley Jordan's stomach.

"What can I possibly do that would be helpful to you except let you know when he comes back to school?" Jordan asked nervously.

"Well, I'm sure that kid has missed some very important tests or exams or something like that this whole time he's been out of school, hasn't he?" Macks' voice sounded strained. "You can come up with some kind of excuse for having to get close to him, can't you? Or do I have to do all the fucking thinking here?"

"You want me to have him come back in to take some tests?" Jordan felt confused by the demand, and he knew it showed in his voice.

"No, you dumb ass, I want you to contact the brother and tell him the kid needs to take some make-up tests, but that he can do it from home. I am working on some things, and what I need you to do will help me out greatly. Don't ask me details, and don't question my actions, just do it." Macks gave the man in front of him a hard stare, his voice sounding threatening.

Bradley Jordan felt the sweat forming on his forehead, and the moisture caused the tape holding his glasses together to slide down the bridge of his nose. He reached up and slowly slid them back into their proper position before nervously clearing his throat. "If I do this one last thing, then you'll give me the picture?"

"I'll consider it." Mack's tone showed no emotion. What was meant to be a smile formed on his lips, but it looked more like a snarl. Jordan wondered to himself when this nightmare was going to end.

* * *

Craig stood in his room, packing a few clothes into a paper sack. He looked at Bobby who was standing in the doorway watching him. "Where is my backpack?" He asked quietly, thinking it would be much easier to pack than a paper bag.

Bobby shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know I haven't seen it for a while. When was the last time you seen it?" He didn't seem too concerned about the missing item.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know." He finished putting the clothes into the bag and picked it up, turning fully to face his brother. "Can I take my sketch pad?" He asked quietly.

"You can take anything that you want. You can take your pillow too." Bobby stepped past him and snatched the pillow off of the bed. "Where's your drawing book?" He asked.

"It's downstairs." Craig muttered.

Bobby nodded his head. "Well that's it out of here then, right?"

Craig drew in a deep breath and looked around his room without answering his brother.

"It'll be okay Craig, just a couple of days." Bobby led him out of the room.

Angel and Jerry were in Jack's room, packing items into a duffle bag. The two of them seemed to be arguing about the clothes they were loading into the bag, but Craig didn't pay much attention to what they were saying. He followed Bobby down the stairs to the living room. His school books were loaded into a box and resting on the coffee table. He located his sketch pad and put it into the box with his school books before sitting down on the couch next to Jack. He felt a mixture of anger and hurt feelings. He didn't want to go, but he knew he didn't have a choice. He even understood why Bobby was doing this, but he didn't have to like or act like he was happy about it.

Bobby stood on the other side of the coffee table and looked down at both of his brothers. "Damn, you two look as if you're being hauled off to jail or something." He laughed.

"You know, paybacks are a bitch," Jack muttered with a threatening glare at his brother.

Angel and Jerry came down the stairs at that moment, Angel laughing uncontrollably.

"Yeah, you ain't gonna find it so funny later." Jerry spoke quietly, looking serious.

"We ready?" Bobby looked at Angel and Jerry.

"Yeah man, we got everything Jack asked for." Angel nodded his head, turning serious.

"Well, let's go, we can't keep the women waiting, now can we? Especially the crazy ones," He smiled and looked at both Craig and Jack. His smile faded when he realized their returning stares looked deadly.


	30. Chapter 30

Thanks to all for reading, and the nice comments :) (If I get enough reviews I might get another chapter up today)

Legal statement still counts.

* * *

**Chapter 30: Butterflies**

Craig sat in the back seat of his mother's car while Angel helped Jack get into the front seat. He then listened to a long, drawn out discussion about who was driving. Bobby was in possession of the keys, so he knew Angel was not going to be the one in charge of the car, no matter how much he argued. Bobby said something to Angel about him getting the car back when hell freezes over, a phrase that was often used by Evelyn when she was determined to make something last a while, in fact she had told him the exact same thing when she had grounded him for decorating the side of the school with his art work.

Angel finally gave in and got into the back seat next to Craig. Jeremiah was going to go to check on his wife and daughters and was supposed to meet Bobby and Angel back at the house in an hour.

The ride to the apartment building where Sofi's mother lived wasn't a long one, but it was tense, and Craig felt as if it took forever to get there. The building wasn't a large one, only one story, and there was a line of five or six different units all connected. They were pretty decent considering they were apartments. The yard was well kept in the summer, and even with the snow on the ground now it was easy to see that it was well maintained all year round. The parking area was dry and clear of the usual slush and ice that seemed to patch up the streets, and the sidewalks were clear as well. Craig carried his paper bag while Bobby took control of his box of school books. Angel helped Jack walk to the door, which opened before they ever reached it. The aroma of food cooking drifted from the door with the warm air escaping from the home.

Sofi seemed calm enough as she told Angel that Jack had a place all ready for him in her brother's old bedroom. Her mother, Maria, greeted them with hugs and then she and Sofi led them all back to the bedroom that Sofi had been talking about. It seemed they had fixed it up especially for Jack, with a television in the room, and tables conveniently set up on either side of the bed.

Sofi walked up to Craig while her mother seemed to take charge of helping Angel get Jack settled in. "You are going to sleep in my room. I'm going to sleep with Mama." She smiled at the boy and took his bag. "Come, I'll show you where it is." She started walking out of the room.

Craig looked at Bobby. He knew he was safe there, he truly did, but he wasn't going to be with his brother for a day or two once he left him there, and he hated leaving his side at that moment. A feeling of doom seemed to be trying to take hold of his gut.

Bobby nodded at him. "You go; I'll be along in a minute. You can take these." He held the box out to the boy.

Craig took the box and followed Sofi without saying a word. He wasn't sure if he could speak at that moment without crying, and he didn't want to cry, not about staying away from home for a couple of days, that would just reinforce that he was nothing but a kid in his brothers' eyes.

He was surprised by the way Sofi's room looked. The curtains were pink and lacy, and there was perfume and jewelry on the dresser. The cover on the bed was pink and designed with flowers and butterflies. The wall paper was two different shades of pink striped around the whole room, with purple and yellow butterflies dotted about on it. There were close to fifty butterflies of all shapes and colors hanging from the pink ceiling with nylon thread. It was all rounded out with pink carpet beneath his feet. He thought it seemed a little girlish, even for Sofi; sure she was a girl, but she never seemed to be that prissy, and the room looked like it belonged to a little girl, not a woman.

Sofi dropped the bag on the bed and pointed to the dresser. "You can set that down there." She smiled and looked around the room as she sighed. "I'm sorry you're stuck with this room." She rolled her eyes before looking back at Craig. "I grew up in this room and hated every minute I spent in here. Mama decorated it for me when I was small."

Craig set the box down while Sofi spoke. He almost felt relieved to hear that Sofi didn't like the décor; he was thinking he didn't know much about her at all. Sure, he'd expected a girl's room, maybe even pink, but not the pastel girlie theme that had greeted him.

"Look on the bright side, when the lights are turned off at night all of the butterflies glow in the dark." Sofi laughed.

Craig forced a small smile, knowing that Sofi was trying to make him feel a little less uncomfortable than he was feeling.

Bobby and Angel both appeared in the doorway. Bobby looked past Sofi and around the room. "Man, I didn't want to torture him, Sofi. He's not bein' punished, can't he sleep on the couch or something?" He spoke sarcastically as he stepped into the room and up to Craig.

"Shut up Bobby, you are in my Mama's house now; you had best talk with some respect." Sofi's tone turned defensive. She walked over to Angel, who was still in the doorway.

Angel slid an arm around his woman and gave her a slight squeeze. "Relax, he's only teasing." He spoke quietly.

Bobby looked at Craig, and gave him a wink. "Yeah, Loco Ono, I'm only teasing, so calm down." He turned and looked at Sofi with a smirk on his face.

Sofi started to rattle off something in Spanish, but Angel grabbed her arm and pulled her from the room. "Come on Mrs. Lennon let's go get Jack's things out of the car. Maybe the cold air will help you calm your ass down a little." He spoke calmly.

The remark turned Sofi's words onto Angel, but she followed him out of the room.

Bobby laughed and turned back to the boy. "You gonna be okay with her?" He cocked his thumb towards the sound of Sofi's voice trailing off down the hallway.

Craig didn't try to answer; he just shrugged his shoulders and leaned back against the dresser he was standing next to.

Bobby sighed and let his laughter die down. He still wore a thin smile on his face as he stepped up to the boy and pulled him into a hug. "You're gonna be fine, kid. Sofi will take good care of you, I know she will or I wouldn't leave you with her."

Craig grabbed hold of his brother and let himself start crying. "Bobby please, don't leave me here?" He hadn't wanted to lose it like that, but the fear and a sense of dread was eating at him now. "Please?" He begged.

"Craig, you're gonna be fine." Bobby's voice was quiet. "Please don't make this harder than it is. I don't have a choice here. I am not going to have you in the way of a bullet or another fucking bomb. We already talked about all of this, and I need you to help me out here by doing this. I gotta do this to keep you safe and I need you to keep an eye on Jack for me okay?"

Craig tried to hold the tears back, he tried to do what Bobby was asking him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that once Bobby left he wasn't going to see him again, ever. He hadn't been separated from Bobby since he'd come home from Jerry's. Sure, Bobby had left him at home a few times with another brother, but it hadn't really been for very long, and he'd been home.

"You're gonna have Jack to look out for." Bobby repeated. "I need you to make sure he doesn't eat anything too spicy, and that he takes his pills like he's supposed to. I want you to tuck him in at night, and if you really want to freak him out, I packed an old teddy bear in with your school books, give it to him tonight when he goes to bed and tell him it's from me." The man laughed.

Craig didn't respond to the joke or to his brother's words. He was trying to get himself to stop crying, trying to act his age, and do what Bobby wanted him to do, but it was hard, and if he tried to talk right then it would all just break open again.

"Craig, I'll call every hour to let you and Jack know that's going on, okay?" He asked.

Craig nodded his head, but he knew Bobby would forget and wouldn't call like he said.

"I already wrote some things down for Sofi and her mother, like the times Jack needs his pills, and about cleaning that drainage tube. Jack knows most of it, but he might need some help, and I want you to keep an eye on that for me. I also want your ass in bed at nine o'clock, no excuses. You eat all your food and you remember to say please and thank you when you need to. I want your school work done, from eight o'clock until five o'clock, its school time and nothing else. No television, no radio, no playin' games. If you give anyone a hard time about that I'll come over here just to beat your ass, and I mean that." Bobby seemed to be rambling on. "I'll stop over anyway just to check on you, so I'd better find you minding what you're told and studying like hell's fire is on your ass."

Craig held onto Bobby a little tighter. "Okay." He drew in a shaky breath and finally managed to swallow the tears down.

"That's my boy." Bobby eased up on his hold on Craig. "I stuck my old hockey jersey in your bag too, so you can wear that to bed tonight. It's my good luck jersey, so it will keep you safe. You can call me before you go to bed if you want to talk, okay?" He spoke calmly.

Craig nodded his head, "Bobby; you and Angel and Jerry, you're gonna be okay, right?" He asked quietly.

"Of course we are." Bobby gave him one last squeeze. "I promise, everything is gonna be great. We'll get this last bit of nasty shit out of the way and then things will get back to normal for us."

Craig let out a long breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"Look, if I didn't think you were gonna be safe here I wouldn't have brought you here, now would I?" Bobby asked.

Craig shook his head, "No." He muttered.

"I told you before, there's no one I trust more than Sofi right now. So you can trust her too. You listen to her and do what she says. She's pretty smart, for a woman. Ma liked her, and would be thrilled that Angel chose her, you know that? You just do what she says and everything will be fine." Bobby pulled the boy back enough that he could look at his face. "Now wipe your tears off your face before Sofi sees and thinks you don't like her." He sounded serious.

Craig wiped the tears away with his hands and sniffed back the last bit of tears. He looked up to see Sofi standing in the door with a smile on her face. He knew she had heard what Bobby had said, and he was sure that he looked surprised to see her there.

Bobby turned, to see what the boy was looking at and his face changed to an irritated expression. "You are listening in on a private conversation?"

"You're in my room Bobby." Sofi shot back, but her voice was softer than it usually was when she was talking to the eldest Mercer.

"You're a crazy snoop!" Bobby pulled Craig under his arm and walked him out of the room, pushing his way past Sofi and guiding the boy back to where Jack was situated in his bed. Angel was unloading Jack's duffle bag, box of medical supplies and other items, and his guitar onto the dresser.

Craig tried his best not to cling to Bobby, and not to let the tears start again when his brothers said their goodbyes, but it was hard. He leaned back on the wall and watched as Bobby and Angel talked to Jack and told him to call them if he or Craig needed anything. They both gave Jack an easy hug, careful of his healing body. Angel turned to Craig and walked over to him, hugging him quickly. "Sofi's making you something special for dinner. You're gonna love it." He spoke quietly to the boy before releasing him and walking out of the room.

Bobby said something to Jack quietly, before turning to the boy. "Okay, come here and sit with Jack." He motioned for the boy to walk over to the bed.

Craig did as Bobby told him, but the man gave him another quick hug before letting him sit down on the edge of the mattress. Bobby drew in a deep breath. "I'll call in one hour." He looked at his watch. "If I don't call you, you call me. Jack has his cell phone." Bobby nodded towards Jack, who quietly confirmed he had his phone.

Craig watched Bobby walk out of the room, and if Jack hadn't reached out and grabbed hold of his hand he probably would have gone after his oldest brother. He closed his eyes and listened to the front door closing hard.

"Hey, you gotta stay strong, now look at me." Jack spoke quickly.

Craig opened his eyes and looked at the man.

"You really wouldn't want me stuck here by myself, would you?" Jack asked carefully. "You can handle this. It's Sofi; she loves the hell out you and me. We're gonna live like a couple of kings here." He flashed a sly smile at the boy. "I bet she won't make you crack one book open unless she knows Bobby's coming."

Craig swallowed hard. "Jack, the bedroom I have to sleep in looks like a bunch of butterflies drowning in Pepto-Bismol." He muttered.

Jack started laughing. "Well, you don't have Mama asking you if you need a bedpan, now do you?" He held a thin smile for a long moment.

"No." Craig felt his heart lighten a little.

"Then stop your complaining." Jack sighed. "You won't see the butterflies in the dark."

"Sofi says they glow." Craig informed.

Jack looked as if he were holding in his amusement at the statement. "They glow?" He asked.

"According to her, yeah," Craig nodded his head.

Jack looked around the room. "Well, at least this room is half normal, you can just hang out in here with me until it's time for bed, how's that?" He offered.

"You just don't want to be in here alone if Sofi or her mother comes in to try to give you a bath." Craig lay back on the bed, letting his back pin down Jack's legs.

"You're damn right. You are my protection. If they start in on me, you find a reason for them to give you some of their attention." Jack laughed.

"Jack, you think they'll find anything?" Craig asked quietly, not specifying that he was talking about their brothers.

"Of course, they know what they're doing." Jack nodded his head, allowing the boy to change the subject. "They'll be fine. You and me, we gotta look out for ourselves right now. We have bigger worries than they do."

Sofi appeared in the doorway, "I have dinner almost ready. After we eat, Craig, you can shower and then I'll cut your hair. You need a hair cut." She turned and looked at Jack, "You could use one too Jack. I can make it look very nice." She sounded very enthusiastic.

Jack looked at Craig and drew in a deep breath. "It will be okay Craig, no matter what kind of torture they bring on, we can beat it, but we might have to kill the butterflies." He spoke with such a serious voice that Craig had to laugh.

* * *

Anthony watched as Mr. Jordan walked through the room silently thirty minutes after being left alone with Macks. The man walked out of the basement apartment without saying a word or acknowledging the teens.

Anthony looked towards the back of the living space and hesitated before standing up and walking back to Adam's office, leaving his friends in the living room playing the video game system that Macks had given to him a week earlier. He found the man still sitting at his desk, looking at the computer. "So what the hell was Jordan doing here?" He asked in a normal voice, trying to sound cheerful, not wanting to piss the man off. He had managed to rub the man the wrong way a few times, and he didn't want a repeat of what had happened.

Macks looked at the teenager. "I got some work for him, that's all. You ready to go check out your little friend?" He asked.

Anthony drew in a deep breath, before walking into the office completely and sitting in the chair opposite of Macks. "You said that Craig was your son. If he's your son, why don't you just go right up to him and talk to him yourself?"

"I told you, he's been lied to, and he doesn't like me much. He's been told all sorts of bad shit about me." Adam returned his attention to the computer monitor in front of him. "You said yourself he ain't happy with the Mercers. He doesn't like them. They treat him wrong. You were the one who told me that." He seemed to only be half concentrating on his words. "You need to keep an eye on my boy for me. Let me know where he is and what he's doing."

"But, I never said that they treated him bad, I just said that he didn't get along real well with them." Anthony shook his head. "I don't know about this Adam, I mean, he seems happy now, why don't you just let him be? Why do you have to involve him? You got bad things planned for him?"

Adam Macks' gaze slowly rose over the monitor to connect with the younger boy's eyes. "You done screwed up for me once Tony boy. You got your little buddies killed, and lost me a good car in the process. It took a lot of dealing to clean up your mess from last night. You had better watch what the fuck you say to me, and how you speak. You are mine now, remember? I own your ass, and you will do what I say." His voice was raspy and cold. "It ain't so bad, bein' a part of something so fine, now is it? You get everything you want, you even got a new ride waiting for your ass upstairs. I suggest you gather up your friends, and start earning your keep. You go and watch the Mercers and you let me know what the fuck is going on, or I'll give you a little of what you got last night. You didn't enjoy that too much, now did you?"

Anthony drew in a deep breath, and all emotions seemed to drain from him. "No sir, I didn't." He spoke with a steady voice. "I'll go now; I'll call you when I get there." He turned to walk out of the room.

"Tony. You remember one thing. As long as you follow my orders and do what I tell you, you ain't got a fucking thing to worry about; hell you'll live like a king. Don't cross me, and don't test me. I'm the only one you got. No one else gives a shit about what happens to you." Macks called out.

Anthony hesitated in the door for a long moment, not turning to look at Macks. He drew in a deep breath and continued walking. He was sure he heard Adam Macks laughing as he left the room. There would come a day when he would get this man back, and he'd make him pay for what he did to his brother and to him. He just had to be patient and wait for the right time. Until then, he had to do what the man said, he had no choice.


	31. Chapter 31

Let me know what you think? :)

Legal stuff still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 31: Anthony**

Sofi's mother, Maria, grew up with ten younger brothers and sisters in Mexico. One of her sisters had been born with a life threatening illness, and she'd died when she was still been an infant, or there would have been eleven brothers and sisters for Maria to contend with. She had been the eldest, so her siblings had been her responsibility. That meant she was the one to deal with her hellion brothers, and her flirty sisters. She'd practically raised them. She was twelve when her father lost his job at a local factory, and so their family became migrant workers, working in the fields in California during the harvest season. It wasn't just her parents that worked the crops, it was Maria and her brothers and sisters, and they did okay, they made enough to scrape by, but with so many children, her parents never seemed to be able to make ends quite meet. At the age of fifteen Maria was married off to Carlos, who was the son of a family friend, and an American citizen. He took her away from her family, moving her to Detroit, where they had their three sons and one daughter. She barely heard from her family after she was married, but she had her own family to take care of, so it hadn't really bothered her too much. Her husband had been good to her, and though she had barely known him when she first married him she had grown to love him. He was a soft spoken man with a gentle way about him. He was a good father, and a good provider. He died when Sofi was seven, in a hit and run accident on the interstate.

Craig listened to the woman's life history while he sat at the kitchen table and ate his tamales, refried beans, and little cakes topped with a vegetable mix that Sofi called masa cakes, but Maria referred to as sopes. Craig wished he'd been able to eat with Jack, he would have felt a little more at ease. He didn't do well by himself with people he didn't know very well. He barely knew Maria. He didn't want to be rude and ask to eat with his brother, so he just nodded and smiled as the woman spoke. He told Sofi the dinner was good and remembered to thank her for it, as Bobby had instructed him to do before he had left him there. He didn't have the heart to tell her he didn't really like Mexican food too much, and he was sure there was zucchini in the vegetables that rested on top of the cakes on his plate. He ate it, but he had never liked zucchini.

He felt a little awkward with both women sitting there at the table, watching him eat. Neither of them ate with him, but Maria had talked nonstop the whole time. Sofi had taken Jack's meal to him, she and her mother took turns going to the bed room to check on him, to ask if he needed anything else, and make sure that he had plenty of milk in his glass. The trips Maria made were the only time Craig felt a little relief, but she would pick up her story right where she left off as soon as she returned to the kitchen.

Sofi took Craig's empty plate and glass when he was finished. Craig offered to wash the dishes, but Sofi just waved him off. "You are a guest in my mother's home, you will not clean up." She insisted. "You go and take your shower, and I'll have this finished before you get back in here for your haircut."

Craig knew his hair needed cut, he really did, but the idea of Sofi doing the cutting had him worried. He stood slowly, and drew in a deep breath. "You don't have to cut my hair Sofi. There's a place that Mom always took me to get my haircut, and Bobby can take me there." He spoke quietly.

"There is no reason to go to someone else, when my Sofi can cut it." Maria laughed. "She is quite good at it too. She went to school for it once."

Craig was surprised to hear that Sofi had gone to school to learn a trade, and he wasn't sure when exactly she had done that. He'd never heard about it, "Really?" He was starting to feel a little less nervous about a haircut with the knowledge that Sofi had actually gone to a school so that she would know what she was doing.

"Yes, and it took a whole day for her to learn how to cut right." Maria nodded her head with a smile on her face.

Sofi rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I would have gone more than the one day if the idiots had let me cut some hair while I was there. They gave us books and wanted to teach crap about bones, who cares about bones, I wanted to cut hair."

"So, you went for one day, once." Craig swallowed hard as he realized Maria had been speaking literally when she said Sofi had gone to school once.

"Yes, once. I have been cutting my brothers' hair for years, and I take care of my own hair. I used to cut Angel's hair, when he had some to cut." Sofi laughed and walked to the kitchen sink with the dishes.

Craig remembered what Angel's hair had looked like when he was younger, and the idea that Sofi had cut it didn't make him feel any more comfortable with the idea of letting her cut his hair.

Sofi turned to look at him while she ran dish water. "Go get your shower, and come back out here when you are done." She smiled at him.

Craig stood slowly and walked directly to the bedroom Jack was in. "Jack, she's gonna cut my hair." He spoke quietly as he stepped into the room.

Jack looked up from his food tray and smiled. "Have fun getting out of that one." He spoke over a mouth full of food.

"You can't let her cut my hair Jack!" Craig cried out. "Tell her she can't do it." He demanded.

"Craig, she's actually very good at it. She used to cut Angel's hair." Jack nodded his head.

"Yeah, and now he don't have any hair at all." Craig pointed out.

Jack laughed and swallowed his food before speaking. "Sorry kid, but you do need a haircut. Mom would throw a fit if she seen your hair was that long." He kept his eyes on the boy, "Don't worry; if I thought she would mess it up I would get you out of it, but I think she'll do a good job. I hear she cuts her brothers' hair all of the time."

Craig drew in a frustrated breath and gave Jack the most intimidating stare he could come up with. "If you let her cut my hair, I will tell her and her mother that you need a bath and you can't do it by yourself." He threatened.

Jack's mouth dropped open. "You wouldn't dare." He wasn't smiling anymore.

Craig just stared at the man, not saying another word.

Jack sighed. "I'll do my best." He spoke quietly. "You'd better go get your shower. Bobby is going to be calling soon. Maybe he can talk her out of this hair cut idea."

Craig held his threatening gaze on Jack for moment more before walking out of the room, and heading to the Pepto-Bismol room for his sweatpants and Bobby's hockey jersey. He took his time in the shower, hoping that if he delayed long enough Sofi would decide it was too late for a haircut.

When Craig walked back into Jack's room twenty minutes later his brother was on his cell phone. "Is that Bobby?" He asked, climbing over the bed to sit on Jack's side that was free of the drainage tube.

Jack nodded his head but seemed to be listening to the phone. After several moments he nodded his head slightly. "Okay, but you guys need to be careful." He spoke quietly. "What about the haircut? You really want her holding sharp objects close to his head?"

Craig felt a glimmer of hope as Jack turned enough to look at him. "Well he's right here, you talk to him." He held the phone out towards Craig, who snatched it up quickly and held it to his right ear.

"Bobby?" He asked.

"How was dinner?" Bobby asked. "You got your shower and you're all ready for bed?"

"Dinner was okay, it was different." Craig answered. "I got my shower, but Sofi wants to cut my hair."

"Yeah, I heard." Bobby actually laughed on the other end of the phone. "Let her cut it, she'll do a good job and you need a haircut."

"Bobby, I don't want her to cut my hair." Craig kept his voice quiet. "Can't you tell her not to?"

"Craig, just let her cut it. If it's no good I'll take you someplace and get it fixed." Bobby responded in a calm voice. "Jeeze, you're worse than Angel."

Craig could see this wasn't going to get him anywhere. "What are you doing?" He asked Bobby, changing the subject. He let his left hand drift down to the seam of the jersey he was wearing and play with a loose thread.

"Right now I'm sitting in the car. Angel is talking to a group of kids; we're trying to track down some of the names that kid, Terry, gave us. There's not much going on, but I'll let you know as soon as we find out anything." Bobby told him calmly. "Don't worry; I'll call back in an hour to find out how your haircut turned out. Let me talk to Jack now." He laughed a little.

"Bobby…" Craig started to argue about the haircut.

"Give the phone to Jack." Bobby ordered.

"Fine," Craig thrust the phone back to Jack who smiled as he took it.

"No, he's fine." Jack spoke after a moment. "Well can you blame him?" He listened for a few more minutes before he said goodbye and closed up the phone.

Craig stared at the foot of the bed for a long moment.

Jack looked at him. "I tried. I really did." He spoke seriously.

"As I recall she was talking about cutting your hair too." Craig muttered and turned to look at Jack. "It does look a mess right now." He commented.

"It does not look a mess; this is how it's supposed to look." Jack spoke defensively. "Besides, unlike you, I'm old enough to just tell her that she is not going to touch my hair."

Craig shook his head. "This is not fair."

Jack didn't have a chance to respond to Craig's comment. Sofi walked into the room and looked at Craig. She placed her hands on her hips. "Craig, I have been waiting for you out here. Come on this will not take too long."

Craig surrendered to defeat and climbed across Jack to get off of the bed. Once he was on his feet Sofi grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him through the door, talking about seeing some pictures in a magazine and she had the perfect idea for how to cut his hair. She was going to show him the pictures and let him see what exactly she was going to do to him.

Crag sat in the kitchen chair and cringed when Sofi wrapped a sheet around him to keep the hair from getting on his clothes. She showed him the magazine and pointed to the style she thought would look good on him. He just nodded his head and tried to think of some possible way to get back at his brothers for letting her do this to him. He didn't mind getting a haircut, but he was sure it wasn't going to turn out well.

* * *

Anthony stood in an alley half a block down from the Mercer house, the back drive was in plain view from his position. He watched as the older men and Craig got into Miss Evelyn's car and drove away. He quickly walked back to the Chevy Nova that Adam Macks had given to him. It wasn't a new car, but it was better than the rusted out piece of crap Dodge that the man was so upset about losing. Sure, this car had its quirks, but the body wasn't rusted out, well not completely anyway.

The teenager joined Terry in the car, and followed the Mercers as they weaved through the streets for ten minutes, ending up in a small apartment complex. Terry laughed when they parked far enough away that they couldn't be seen. It was obvious that they were dropping Jack and Craig off at the apartment."They fell for it. Look at them; they're doing just what the boss wanted them to do. They ain't gonna be together, they're gonna be separated. This will be easy money." He looked over at Anthony, who was watching the Mercers go into one of the apartments, no emotion showing on his face. "What is wrong with you? He's gonna pay good for this information. You know that, don't you?"

Anthony finally looked over at Terry. "Man, you are warped. He's gonna want us to bust in there and beat on people. You know that, right? Craig is only fourteen, and he wants us to try and grab him? This ain't right." He shook his head.

"You are the one who brought us in on this; you need to get some nerve, man. You are pathetic. What would boss say if he heard you talking like that?" Terry spoke with a harsh tone. He was only a few months older than Anthony, but he wasn't talking like the sixteen year old that he'd been only a few short weeks ago.

"That's right; I'm the one that brought you all in on this. I'm not saying it ain't gonna bring some money in. The other shit, hell, we need it. I don't understand why he's so set on this." Anthony pointed towards the Mercer car. "This ain't got anything to do with the other business, and this wasn't part of the original deal either."

"Well it didn't bother you before. You said yourself he's the boss. We gotta do what he says." Terry stared at Anthony for a long moment before laughing. "It ain't like he's gonna hurt him, right? I mean, the kid is his son." He spoke sarcastically before turning back to watch the apartment. "Besides, you said yourself that Craig Mercer had it bad in that house, we're gonna be doin' him a favor. His brothers don't care about him, that's what you said. Since when do you really care about him anyway? His family struts around like they own the fucking neighborhood. You heard what they did at that basketball game? That took some balls, just strutting out onto the courts, acting like people had to let them do it because they're the Mercers."

Anthony gave Terry an irritated look.

"And they killed your brother too, remember? You can't let them get away with that shit man, someone needs to show them they don't own this neighborhood, the boss does, and he's gonna take them down, they deserve it." Terry rattled out the words hatefully.

"What the fuck did the Mercers ever do to you Terry?" Anthony asked, not understanding the hate in the boy's voice. "Why the hell are you involved with any of this?"

"They lost a mother, and they think they have the right to raise all sorts of hell because of that? My Mom is dying man; you don't think I have the right to raise some hell too?" Terry looked angry. "What's good for them is good for me, and why not raise hell with them? They deserve it for what they did to your brother, don't they? I mean why the hell are you doing this?"

Anthony shook his head slowly. "I'm just surviving man, my Mama doesn't have anything to do with me, and she could care less about what happens to me, unlike your sick mother who's lying at home wondering where your sorry ass is right now. You see me cryin' over my brother Terry? Have I let one tear fall for him? You think that maybe there might be a reason I'm not cryin' for him? He never did nothin' for me when he was alive, why should I cry for him now that he's dead? You know nothin' about my life. You're doin' this cause you're pissed at the world about your mom being sick and dying? Hell, that's your problem; you think this is how she wants you to deal with it?"

Terry stared at Anthony for a long moment. "The boss would love to hear how you're reasoning about the Mercers, you know that? He would really love to know what you really think about his plans. He wouldn't be treating you so damn special if he knew how you really felt." His voice was icy and hard.

Anthony shook his head. "Don't tell me you're jealous. You ain't got what it takes Terry, trust me. Nothing you can do can get you into my place with the boss, and maybe you don't want to be there." He would definitely have to watch what he said around Terry from now on. His once quiet and reserved friend had made a drastic personality change in just a couple of weeks, and it was not for the better. He had to be careful, or he'd lose everything that he'd worked for. He couldn't end up on the streets, he'd die on the streets, and he knew that. He had to play this for as long as possible. He let out a huff of air, forming steam in front of him. "I'm doin' what the boss says. I will continue to do what the boss says, and I'll be damned if you are going to try to step into my shoes. Try it and I'll make sure you pay for it for a long time." He spoke with as cruel a voice as he could come up with.

Terry seemed a bit taken by the words, and actually backed down. "Man, I was just starting to worry about where your priorities lie, that's all." He didn't sound quite so tough at that moment.

"My priorities are my business Terry, keep your fuckin nose out of my business and you and me will be fine." Anthony watched as Angel Mercer and walked out of the apartment, with Sofi at his side.

He knew Sofi, everyone knew Sofi, and everyone knew that Sofi was Angel Mercer's woman, even when he wasn't around. That didn't mean she didn't have a good time; she had boyfriends, but none of them stood a chance.

Anthony laughed as he remembered the one guy who tried to get her to marry him. The guy was literally kicked out of her moving car into the middle of the street because the offer pissed her off. She was straight up with anyone that she dated, she was Angel Mercer's woman, and though she liked to have fun when he wasn't around, she was sure he'd come back one day. Hell, she'd been right about that.

Anthony was hoping that Craig was getting along with his brothers better than before. He'd felt for the kid when he'd seen him at the ice rink. He knew what Stanley had done, and he'd wanted to tell him, to tell his brothers, but he hadn't had the nerve. He didn't have anyone besides Stanley, and although his brother was ass, at least he'd had a place to sleep, and a way to make some money. When Stanley died, Adam Macks had been there for him. He probably would never have gotten involved with his brother's friend if he hadn't been so damn scared of what was going to happen to him. Macks talked a good game, and at first everything the man said seemed true. Anthony had a place to stay, and Macks made sure he was in school at least part of the time. He had hired him, under a work program for his company, though Anthony should have known it was all bullshit from the start. Yeah, he hired him, but he had him running drugs and tracking down friends.

He'd said that he was Craig's father, that Craig had been stolen from him years before and that he'd been lied to. Anthony had believed him, why shouldn't he, the man had taken him in and told him how his brother had been killed. He'd told him the Mercers were no good, and Anthony, still feeling the sting of being left with no place to live, and no one to help him was angry at Craig's older brothers for leaving him homeless and alone. He had shared with Macks that Craig didn't get along with his brothers, and that he was unhappy there, though deep down he had known that the Mercer brothers would take good care of his friend.

Part of him had been angry that Craig had something that he didn't, and he'd wanted to make someone else hurt the same way he was hurting, so he'd gone along with Adam Macks, feeling the hate and the anger, and letting it control him. Now he was getting over it, and he was regretting that he'd turned on his friend, and he did think of Craig as a friend, though he didn't see much of him. He didn't want him to have the same shit in his life to deal with that he had, and it was all working towards that. Because of him, Craig might very well lose everything.

Fifteen minutes later Bobby and Angel Mercer were leaving the apartment, and that meant that Craig would be easier to get to. Damn, Anthony couldn't believe Bobby Mercer was letting this happen, he thought the man had more smarts about him.


	32. Chapter 32

As always, thanks for reading, and let me know your thoughts. I love hearing them :)

Legal statement still counts.

* * *

**Chapter 32: A Sharp Turn**

Craig could see the amount of hair Sofi was removing from his head, and his mind kept flashing a picture of himself sporting the 'Angel' look for the next few months. When she was finished with the scissors she switched to an electric trimmer and cleaned up the hair at the nape of his neck and around his ears.

He could see the door of Jack's room from where he was sitting, and he couldn't resist mentioning that Jack needed to bathe. He looked directly at Maria when he said it. "It's still kind of awkward for him, with that tube. Bobby usually helps him, but he's not here now. I can help him when Sofi's done cutting my hair, but I'll probably be up later than I'm supposed to be." He wasn't surprised when Maria jumped from her chair and made a bee line straight to Jack's room. He grinned at the sounds coming from the room from that point on. He watched as Maria returned to the kitchen to get a basin of warm water. She didn't say a word as she left quickly. Yeah, Jack should have backed him up on the whole haircut thing.

Sofi stood in front of him once she'd combed every hair into place and she held a mirror up so that he could see the results. He had to admit, it was quite good. He was surprised and it must have shown on his face because Sofi just laughed and shook her head. "You need to trust people Craig. Even Bobby said he trusted me to take good care of you." She spoke with a knowing hint to her voice.

Craig looked at her and let a small smile slip past him. "Thanks Sofi, it does look good." He agreed.

"You know, doing that to Jack wasn't very nice at all." Sofi still grinned at the boy.

"What are you talking about?" Craig tried to sound innocent.

"My Mama will not take no for an answer, she'll be in there for the next half hour making him strip and washing him." Sofi chuckled softly, keeping her voice quiet as she leaned over and turned to see what was going on in the bedroom.

Jack was busy trying to tell the older woman he could wash himself in as polite a voice as he could, but Maria was busy pulling his shirt off, and smacking his hands out of the way when he tried to stop her.

Craig laughed at the site. "He's going to be preoccupied for quite a while, isn't he?" He wasn't really asking, but it felt good at that moment to see someone else feeling the same distress that he'd felt just a short time before.

Sofi reached out and carefully removed the sheet that had been protecting Bobby's hockey jersey. She grinned at the jersey. "That is two sizes too big for you." She shook her head.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "So?"

"So I'm surprised Bobby let you have it. It's not like he lets other people to wear his hockey crap." She folded the sheet and then went for the broom. "Don't move until I get the hair swept up." She warned.

Craig waited patiently while Sofi swept the floor. His left hand played with the seam of the jersey the whole time. He sat with Sofi once she was done cleaning up the floor. She talked about her brothers, and their families, and showed him pictures of her nieces and nephews. She seemed like a totally different Sofi right then, and Craig could see why Angel liked her. He waited until Maria returned to the kitchen. The woman was mumbling under breath as she opened the back door and emptied the basin of water outside. She turned and looked at Sofi. "That boy is loco." She started rambling on in Spanish, and Sofi started laughing at whatever she was saying.

Sofi looked at Craig. "You might want to check on Jack and see if he's okay. He threatened to bite my Mama and she felt the need to slap him." She was still laughing.

Craig smiled and stood. He headed for the bedroom. He could see Jack through the open door, sitting on the bed with the television on, his arms crossed as his chest, looking pissed. He walked up to the door and tapped lightly on the frame next to him. "Jack?" He asked quietly.

Jack turned his head slowly and looked at the boy. "You will pay for that." His voice sounded a lot like Bobby at that moment. "You won't know when, and you won't know how, but you will pay for it."

Craig felt that same sense of doom swell up around him that he'd been fighting earlier, just before Bobby left, but this time it had a different feel about it. Jack had never been angry with him, not really. The look on the young man's face was real anger. "Jack, I'm sorry, I didn't think she'd really do it." That wasn't the full truth, but he couldn't stand the thought of Jack being angry with him. A few weeks earlier it may not have bothered him so much, but right now it did. It probably hadn't been the best idea to send Sofi's mother in there on a mission with Jack still healing. He wouldn't have done it if Jack had backed him up just a little about the haircut, but to be honest he'd thought it would be funny. Now it just didn't seem so funny.

"Craig, don't stand there and try to look innocent. You told her I needed help washing." Jack's teeth clenched together as he spoke. "You knew what was going to happen as soon as you told her that."

Craig felt hurt. He knew he'd put Jack in a difficult situation, but he really hadn't thought his brother would get that upset with him. He had warned him that he'd do it if he didn't help him get out of the haircut. A part of him told him he deserved for Jack to be angry with him. Maybe he'd let himself feel a little too comfortable with his brothers. They were always pulling pranks on each other and having fun, and he'd fallen into the trap that his defenses were constantly warning him of. He'd let himself feel like one of them, and had tried to act like one of them. He didn't like Jack being upset with him though. He hadn't thought the man would be quite that angry. "Sorry." He muttered the word, not feeling like defending his actions.

"Oh, you are not sorry yet. You wait, I will get you back." Jack warned, his eyes turning to slits.

Craig swallowed hard. "I'm going to bed." He turned and walked out of the room, down his hall, to the sickly pink room where he was surrounded by butterflies. He turned on the light and dropped down on the bed, lying back, which was a mistake. The view above the bed was smothered in butterflies. "Damn." He muttered quietly and reached over to the stand next to the bed to turn off the light. It didn't help. The entire room glowed with strong pink, green and yellow butterflies. He closed his eyes and ran his hands through the very short hair on his head. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Adam Macks had seemed pleased when Anthony called him to share the new development. Jack and Craig Mercer had been driven to an apartment and were left behind when the Mercer men drove away. He'd asked the teen where the Mercers were heading, and when Anthony told him they hadn't followed, his new boss' pleased tone turned angry. "Get the fuck after them you fool!" He yelled at him over the phone. "We know where the kid is, but we need to keep an eye on those ass holes. We can't have them talking to the wrong people. We've covered our tracks so far, but there are a few loose ends that they could stumble onto, so you stay on their ass!"

He'd hung up the phone before Anthony had a chance to respond to his words. Hell, he was in for it now. The man was gonna just sit and brew about his mistake and then be more pissed by the time Anthony seen him. He wasn't too nice when he was pissed. Anthony had the bruises on his body to prove that.

They had driven around the neighborhood, looking for the Mercer car, and Anthony had been lucky enough to think to drive near their house. Sure enough, there they were, picking up Jerry Mercer. He had been on their tail since, staying far enough back that they wouldn't see them.

He followed them to night time hangouts, and had watched as Angel had approached groups of kids Anthony knew well, talking to them and acting friendly with them. All three men had gotten out of the car on some other stops they made, to confront boys wearing gang colors, and had acted pretty tough with them. Anthony wasn't worried; no one knew where he was or who had taken control of the Street Kings. It wasn't a concern. He stayed with the Mercers though, as Macks had ordered. He called in and reported to his new boss as to what was happening, and it was then that Macks told him he was sending some friends over to the apartment for a visit. Anthony had gone cold inside. He'd met some of Macks' friends. They were big time hoods, not street gangs consisting of teenagers. They dressed nice, and acted like they had some class, but they seemed dangerous. They were after something bigger than getting Adam Macks' son back to him. What they would do in that apartment was far worse than Anthony or any of his friends would have ever thought to do, he was sure of that, and it was going to be his fault.

As Anthony followed the Mercer brothers back to the house, his mind was dwelling on what he'd been doing the past few weeks, and what kind of person he was turning into. He didn't want to be another Stanley. He was better than that, he wanted better than that for himself. He glanced at Terry as he parked the car in the alley where they had been only a couple of hours earlier.

He watched Bobby park the car in the garage, and then lock the building up tight, messing with the electrical box on the outside wall just before walking with his brothers around the house to the front door.

He had a choice, he could either keep going in the direction he was heading, or he could make a sharp turn and change his life for the better. He could let the state take custody of him; he could handle living in foster care for a few years. Hell, if he ended up in Juvi' again, he could even handle that. He couldn't handle knowing that he'd screwed up Craig's life. He'd invested too much time into keeping the kid safe when his brothers all moved away. He hated to admit that Craig was the only true friend he'd ever had. Craig never asked for anything, except for some time, and it had made him feel proud to think that someone actually liked spending time with him. Hell, he had to admit, he'd grown kind of fond of the kid, and he had missed him the past year.

Anthony turned and looked at the problem sitting next to him in the front seat of the Nova. Hell, he could take Terry; he could put him out of commission easy. An idea was forming in his brain now, and he was sure he could carry it through; he just needed to stay calm.

He pulled out his cell phone started punching numbers. He wasn't actually calling anyone, but he held the phone up to his ear and glanced at Terry who was still watching the Mercer house. He started talking to the air as if he were speaking to someone on the other end of the line. "Yeah, boss, they're back at home now." He nodded his head as if he were listening closely, and then drew in a deep breath. "You're sure you want us to do that?" He asked the question quietly, as if he were trying to keep Terry from hearing, knowing the boy's curiosity would be peaked. "But that's stupid, man, they'll take us out." He did his best to act pissed and tried to look as if he were listening to Macks on the other end. "Alright, you're the boss, but I still think this is stupid." He sighed and looked at Terry as he flipped the phone closed. "He wants us to go in there and get 'em." He shook his head. "I don't know, I think it's a stupid move. What do you think?" He asked.

Terry looked nervous, but he nodded his head. "We can take them out. We're packin'." He patted on his jacket pocket where Anthony knew a .38 revolver was concealed.

"Okay, let's go." Anthony opened his car door and let Terry take the lead.

* * *

Bobby walked through the front door of the house ahead of Angel and Jerry. "Well that did us a hell of a lot of good." He spoke sarcastically.

"No one knows shit Bobby. These boys ain't let the word out to no one who they're listening too." Angel dropped down on the couch. "Whoever their runnin' with has told them not to talk about them."

"Well, someone somewhere knows something." Jerry sat down in the chair next to the fireplace. "Try calling Green back, maybe he's heard something." He suggested.

"He was gonna call if he was able to track any of the boys down." Bobby didn't bother to sit, he paced back and forth across the living room floor, almost to the dining room, and then turning and walking back towards the coffee table.

Bobby's feet followed the same path three times before Jerry spoke up. "Man, you gotta calm yourself down. We'll figure this out." He spoke in a loud voice.

"I was sure someone would call you tonight. I was sure this about that fucking redevelopment project of yours." Bobby shook his head and stopped at the coffee table, looking down at Jerry, a confused expression covering the features of his face. "No one has called; no one has approached you at all. Bradford ain't heard shit from anyone, has he?"

"No, man, he's doing some digging on his end too, but he's got nothing, as of the last time I talked to him. He just said stay low, keep out of sight and to let him know if I do get a call." Jerry sounded calm. "Has Green found out anything about this Winston guy?"

Bobby shook his head. "No, there's nothing connecting him to what went down here. He's clean as far as that goes. Green said there were some suspicions of dirty dealing, but the man doesn't have the reputation that Sweet had. Bombs aren't his style, and using kids don't fit with him either. But Angel already found that out this morning."

"We need to find Anthony." Angel spoke up, leaning forward in his seat.

Bobby looked at Angel. "I know that. He's the fucking key to this, but he's disappeared off the face of the fucking earth." He sighed. "I need a beer. Anyone else need a beer?" He looked at his brothers, but both declined the offer.

Bobby walked through the house to the kitchen and got a beer out of the refrigerator. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was a little after nine, he needed to call Jack again. He'd promised Craig he would call, and he wanted to talk to him before he went to bed. He'd warned him that bedtime was nine o'clock. He walked over to the phone hanging on the kitchen wall and picked up the cordless receiver. He dialed Jack's cell phone number quickly and listened to it ring twice before Jack answered the phone. "Hey Jackie, how's it going?" He asked as calmly as he could while he walked back through the foyer to the living room. He wasn't expecting the long string of cussing that poured out of his younger brother at a level high enough to draw Jerry and Angel's attention to him as he entered the room. He laughed slightly when he heard some of the phrases that filtered through the cussing. He was sure he heard something about Craig's haircut, a bath, and Sofi's mother. He stopped in the same spot he'd been standing just moments before. "Hold on Jack, calm down. I can't understand a word you're saying." He laughed, but he managed to keep it short, sure that his amusement would only fuel Jack's anger. "What the fuck is wrong?" He finally spoke when Jack's yelling didn't stop.

The other end of the line went quiet, and for a moment Bobby was worried. Then he heard Jack let out a loud huff. "Craig told Sofi's mother that I needed a bath, and that I couldn't do it by myself." Jack spoke with as tense a voice as Bobby had ever heard him use.

Bobby was quiet for a long moment before the meaning of his brother's words sunk in. He laughed. He couldn't stop. He tried to force the hilarity of the situation out of his mind, but it was hopeless. He tried to say something to Jack, but the picture that formed in his mind of the older Mexican woman trying to pull Jack's clothes off of him to bathe him was too much for his mind to process without the belly aching, throat clenching laughter taking control. Jack was still talking on the other end of the line, saying that Craig was getting him back for letting Sofi cut his hair. Bobby doubled over, unable to hold it in, and held the phone out towards Jerry, who looked concerned.

Jerry took the phone, and calmly asked Jack what the hell was going on. Bobby wiped at the tears that were running down his face as he managed to stand up straight for a moment. A new surge hit him and he looked at Angel and pointed to the phone. "Oh, oh shit." He managed to get out before doubling over a second time.

"She hit you?" Jerry cried out, but a moment later he rocked back in his chair and let out a whoop. "Damn, that kid's got some balls when he really wants to, ain't he?" He laughed into the phone.

"What the hell is going on?" Angel asked in a loud, irritated voice.

"Jack…" Bobby tried to speak once more, but couldn't get the words out in one coherent sentence. He managed to stand straight again. "Bath…" He was forced to double over once more and let his body react to the pictures that were still playing in his mind. The look that had to have come across his brother's face, and the panic the younger man must have felt at the idea of a stranger trying to wash him. "Oh my God," He turned away from his brothers, and managed to sit himself in the other chair.

"Someone tell me what the hell is going on!" Angel cried out when Jerry started laughing almost as hard as Bobby.

Jerry tossed Angel the phone and stuck his head down between his knees, his hands clasped behind his head. "Oh man, I wish I'd seen that one." He spoke in between the waves of laughter.

Angel held the phone up to his ear, giving both of his brothers a nasty stare. "Jack, what the hell is going on?" He asked. He listened with a calm look on his face, nodding his head slightly every so often. "Where is Craig? Let me talk to him." He listened for a moment. "He's in bed?" He looked at Bobby, who was still laughing so hard his tears ran steadily. "Well call him. I want to say something to him." He listened for a long moment. "Okay, then I'll talk to him in the morning. I'm sure Bobby is gonna want to deal with him too. Don't worry about it. It's gonna be fine." He nodded his head. "I can guarantee you that all three of us will have a word with him, you don't have to worry about it." He smiled and continued to nod his head. "Yeah, we're home for the night. Call if you need anything, and we'll be by in the morning." He nodded his head again. "Yeah, alright man, love you too." He calmly hung up the phone before he started going into a fit of laugher similar to his brothers.

It took several minutes for the men to return to a fairly calm state. Bobby reached towards Angel to take the phone. "Hell, I didn't think the kid had it in him." He shook his head.

Angel handed receiver over to his brother. "That kid deserves a prize." He chuckled. "Damn, that was a good one."

"Hell yeah, we all needed that." Jerry grinned.

Bobby sighed and stood. "Oh man, I didn't know we were that much of an influence on the little shit." He headed towards the kitchen to put the phone back on the base that hung on the wall. He had hung the phone up when he thought that he might try calling Green just one more time, though he was sure the man was getting tired of hearing from him, he'd been calling nearly every fifteen minutes. As he reached back for the cordless a flash of light outside the kitchen window caught his attention.

He forgot the phone, for the moment and walked over to the window to check out what he was sure was nothing more than a car driving up the street. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary. The garage was locked up tight with the car inside, and he'd rigged the outside light to come on if the walk-thru door opened. A little trick he'd learned back in the day. He studied the street and the yard for a long moment. Everything looked quiet, and normal. He didn't like the feeling that he was getting though. He pulled back from the window, thankful that he hadn't turned on the kitchen light; he wouldn't be visible from the outside with the light turned off. He kept his stare fixed on the outside of the house, waiting for any sign of anything being wrong. Another moment later the light on the outside of the garage came on.


	33. Chapter 33

I know, it's later than normal getting this up, but it's been a long day :( Let me know what you think? :) And thanks for reading and all the reviews, I appreciate them all!

Legal stuff still applies.

* * *

**Chapter 33: Seeing Red**

Bobby stared at the well lit back yard for a long moment while his mind went over the possibilities of what was about to play out for that night. He finally brought himself out of his thoughts and his brain started working on what they needed to do next as he stepped quickly to the living room, turning off any lights that were on along the way. They had talked about this, they had had made plans on what they were going to do if they needed to defend themselves, and with Jack and Craig safe at Sofi's, he didn't have to hold anything back or worry about them. He noticed the looks Jerry and Angel gave him when he turned off the lamp in the living room and then pulled the plug on the Christmas tree. Angel was reaching for his gun; Jerry's whole body went tense.

"It's goin' down, right now. Someone is in the garage." Bobby spoke quietly before downing his beer in one long gulp. He reached for his own gun and leaned down to look out the front window. "Angel, you got the front. Jerry, get your fucking gun and get upstairs. Angel's room looks right down on the garage." He headed for the basement door just under the stair way.

He could hear his brothers moving in the dark room, doing what he'd said. He stopped at the basement and watched as Angel eased the front door open, looking out before slipping through. Jerry didn't run up the stairs, he walked slowly, carefully, as if there might be someone up there waiting for him. Bobby gave them both a few seconds to get into the positions they'd agreed on earlier in the evening when they had discussed the best form of defense. He gave them enough time, and then walked through the basement door, closing it after him, and stepping carefully down the stairs. It was a good thing he'd hung out in the basement so much when he was younger; he knew every last crack and crevasse especially in the dark. He had snuck in and out through the basement countless times, until he came home drunk one night to Evelyn greeting him at the top of the steps. That hadn't been a pleasant moment, though Jerry had gotten a laugh out of it.

He made his way to the entrance on the side of the house next to the street. He cracked the door open and looked towards the back of the yard. He could see shadows moving around, but he wasn't sure if it was actual people, or the shadows the neighbors' bare trees were casting about in the wind. He stayed low, next to the house and moved towards the back corner of the house. He was thankful for the drift of snow that had piled up there giving him some cover. His black sweatshirt and stocking cap kept him nearly invisible as he eased his self up enough to look over the top of the snow.

Two boys emerged from the garage, one of them he recognized immediately. Terry. The same kid he'd pushed from in front of the van and then chased to the warehouse. The same kid who had claimed not to know shit about what was going on was coming out of his garage carrying a shimmering gun his hand. Shit, he was losing his touch; he was getting too fucking soft when it came to kids. He supposed it was because of Craig. Every kid he seen now reminded him of his little brother, and he had to stop letting that happen. He was dangerous himself when he was young, he knew not all kids were like Craig, and he had to start thinking about that fact when he was talking to teenagers. He should have known the kid was lying through his teeth. He should have seen it, and felt it. His instincts hadn't caught it and he could have kicked himself in the ass at that moment for that.

The second kid walked under the light, and Bobby felt his mouth drop open. Anthony Miller; and he carried a tire iron in his hands. The dumb shit was right there; ready to come after them in their own home. They had been looking for him all fucking night, and right there he was. It didn't make sense to him though, for whoever was leading these punks to send two lone wolves after three grown men who were known for being able to take care of themselves. It made no sense at all.

He leaned forward enough to see if Angel was in sight yet. He barely spotted him in the shadows at the other corner of the house, in his black shirt and jeans, similar to his brother's. He nodded at Angel and he was sure he seen his brother nod back. The sound of the upstairs window opening came to Bobby's ears, and he winced slightly, sure that the boys would hear it, but they appeared to be in some kind of heated discussion at that time, so it seemed the sound hadn't alerted them to the presence of their intended targets, for the time being at least.

Bobby found himself straining to listen to what the teens were saying to each other. He was sure he could hear Terry saying something about blowing brains out, and ridding the world of the Mercers, and his blood was starting to boil. He was about to take aim on the Terry's knee cap when Anthony spoke up loud enough for Bobby, Angel and probably Jerry to hear. "You ain't killing anyone Terry. The boss is an ass hole paying us to do his dirty work. I ain't doing it anymore."

Bobby froze, not sure if he'd heard the words right. He glanced over at Angel, who was moving to the back side of the garage, unseen, and as quiet as he'd ever seen him move. The boy's were still talking, and to the man it seemed whatever they were saying to each other didn't look all too friendly. He could feel the crease form in his forehead as he tried to figure out just what the fuck these two hoods were supposed to be up to.

He watched his brother disappear behind the garage, and moments later come around the other corner, behind both of the teens. Angel looked pissed, but he seemed to stop, listening to the words that were now too quiet for Bobby to make out. He could see Anthony shaking his head, and he could see the Terry kid making threatening gestures at his friend, both boys' mouths moving the whole time.

Angel raised his gun, taking aim at Terry before making his move towards the argument ensuing in front of him, and Bobby slid himself from behind the cover of the snow, his gun held out in front of him. He didn't want to have to shoot kids he really didn't, but he would if the safety of his family was in question. As far as he could see these two kids were out for murder, and him and his family was on the receiving end of their intentions.

The movement from the backside of the garage seemed to draw the attention of both boys, and they turned to look at Angel approaching. With one swift motion Terry pulled his weapon up to take aim at Angel.

"Don't even think it punk!" Angel yelled, narrowing his aim to the boy's chest.

"Hey!" Bobby shouted, realizing Terry was about to pull the trigger. He slid to a stop on the slick icy crust that had formed on the snow covered yard. He took aim on Terry's knee and pulled the trigger. A second gunshot rang out simultaneously from the second floor window of the house. In the same instant Anthony's hand, gripping the tire iron, swung up, cracking loudly as the end of it met up with the boy's skull, knocking him out cold. It was obvious the sudden change in position had saved Terry from receiving the bullets that had been intended for him.

"Drop it!" Angel held his aim on Anthony as he and Bobby both advanced on the boy with their guns pointed at him.

Anthony let the heavy iron drop from his hand without any argument. "Man, I was tryin' to stop him!" He cried out, dropping to his knees before the men had reached him, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Bobby, sure that the boy was well under control with Angel's gun aimed at him, holstered his own gun and quicken his own steps, the snow crunching loudly under the weight of his boots. "You sorry little shit!" He yelled as he reached Anthony, he let his right hand land a hard blow to the boy's jaw and wasn't the least bit sorry when the teen fell back into snow, a tooth visibly loosened by the impact from Bobby's fist. The man winced at the pain that shot through his hand and shook it a few times before realizing he was bleeding from a deep cut across his middle knuckle.

That was when Angel made the move that through Bobby mentally off balance. "Bobby stop, he really was trying to stop him!" Angel pulled his gun down and grabbed Bobby's arm with his free hand. "He told him he wasn't gonna let him do shit." He spoke quickly.

Bobby looked at Angel, shocked that his younger brother was falling for the act. "Bullshit Angel, he's here, ain't he? He didn't come here because he wanted to stop by and see our fucking Christmas tree!"

Anthony was holding onto his bloody mouth with one hand. "I had to do something to get to you. I had to try to stop them." His words sounded slurred at the moment.

"Stop them?" Bobby looked down at the boy, and jerked his arm away from Angel. "You have been leading them! You scouted my family out at the grocery store Anthony. You tried to fucking blow us up and your little buddies tried to shoot my brothers. How the hell do you call that stopping them?" He dropped down next to the boy, planting his right knee into his stomach to hold him in place. "I want some answers kid, and this ain't no 'kiddies' game now, I'm fucking serious." He thrust his hurting hand into the snow next to the boy's head and held it there, hoping to ease the pain and stop the bleeding.

"I didn't want to. I didn't have a choice." Anthony looked up at Bobby, and then to Angel. After a few seconds, he drew in a deep breath, "I didn't think I had a choice. But I do. I have a fucking choice, and no matter what the fuck he does, I'm not gonna let him hurt Craig." He spoke the words as Jerry appeared behind Bobby.

"What the fuck are you talking about Anthony, and you had best talk quick, cause the cops are gonna be here any minute." Bobby nearly growled the words. "Who the hell told you to do this shit to my family and why?"

Anthony swallowed at the blood seeping into his mouth. "They know where you have Jack and Craig, man, they are going there." He seemed to ignore Bobby's question. "You gotta stop them! He wants to get his hands on Craig!" He spoke the words loud, with a sense of urgency to them. "We weren't supposed to even be here, I lied to Terry so I could get the message to you. You gotta get to them before they do!"

Bobby had never understood what it meant to see red before. He had always thought it was bullshit, but at that moment everything around him flashed a blood red color and then it all turned hot white, his brain filling with blind rage, not just at the people bringing this shit down on them, but at himself for falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book. He'd separated his family, and left Jack and Craig vulnerable. If anything happened to his little brothers, either of them, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Bobby didn't wait to hear more, not that he could hear much over the loud ringing that was filling his head accompanied by the hard throb of his pulse vibrating through his temples. He pulled his knee out of Anthony's chest and stood. He turned and headed for the garage, to the car. He had to get to his brothers; he had to get to them before anyone else did. He couldn't focus on anything else at that moment. Angel and Jerry were with him, but he didn't notice that Angel had a hold of Anthony by the back of his shirt, hauling him along with him until the boy was thrust head first into the back seat. He could barely make out Jerry's words about the kid talking on the way. It was obvious that Terry wasn't going anywhere, the boy was out cold, and at that moment Bobby could care less if he froze to death lying there in the snow, the kid had been hell bent on killing them, why should he give a shit about him? Jerry was on the phone talking to Green before Bobby even got the car started; he was telling him what was going down, and about the boy in their back yard, though they could already hear sirens growing close to their neighborhood.

Bobby used the remote to open the garage door and gunned the engine, backing out as soon as the door was raised enough to fit the car under it. The second the wheels hit the street he shoved the gearshift into drive without hitting the break, turning the wheel hard as the tires squealed loud under the strain, throwing out slush and dirt, rocking the car forward with a hard jerk. He pushed the gas pedal down to the floor and wasn't planning on using his breaks the whole drive. "Okay, Anthony, you don't want your ass joining your brother in the grave; you'd best start tellin me what the fuck is goin' on!" He yelled.

* * *

Craig tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He couldn't clear his mind of the vision of butterflies fluttering around in a sky of Pepto-Bismol pink. He thought he heard Jack's cell phone ring in the room on the other side of the wall, and he waited to see if his brother would call him in. He had been waiting for Bobby to call; he needed to talk to him right then.

He was feeling guilty for what he'd done to Jack, and with Jack pissed at him, he felt alone right then. He wanted to go home. He wanted Jack to tell him he wasn't pissed anymore.

He listened to Jack's muffled voice through the wall for what seemed forever, and was sure he heard him saying Bobby's name. Then there was silence. He sat up in the bed and swallowed back tears that were trying to work their way out. He shivered and the hairs on his arms stood on end. He still had that heavy feeling of impending doom looming over him, and he couldn't shake it. The butterflies around him seemed to intensify the jittering in his nerves.

He reached over and turned the light on, thinking that might help him to feel a little more at ease, but it didn't. He could hear Sofi and Maria talking quietly in the living room, and the sounds of the television in Jack's room drifted in from time to time. He listened when Sofi went to Jack's room and asked him if he needed anything. After Jack declined she mentioned that she could let her mother bathe him again, and he nearly yelled at her to get out of his face. Moments later she appeared in Craig's doorway and looked at the boy. "You can't sleep?" She asked quietly.

""No," Craig muttered looking at her. "Is Jack still awake?" He asked weakly, though he already knew the answer.

"Yes, he's awake. He's watching television." She nodded her head. "Why don't you stop being stupid and go in there with him? I'm sure he'll let you sleep in there with him." She seemed to understand that the room Craig was lying in wasn't the most comfortable for him.

"He's mad." Craig muttered.

"Well he'll get over it." Sofi smiled and walked away.

Craig closed his eyes and tried to forget the butterfly visions that tried to invade his mind. That effort only opened his mind up to the memories of the Dodge chasing him and Angel down the street, gun fire ringing out in the night air. He sat back up in the bed and shivered hard. He was afraid, and he was alone, and he wanted to go home.

He got out off the bed and slowly made his way the next bedroom, where Jack was watching T.V. He stopped in the doorway and cleared his throat quietly; drawing Jack's gaze from the commercial that was telling him how to remove those nasty grass stains from his white shirts. The man drew in a deep breath and let his eyebrows rise slightly, as if he were waiting for the boy to speak.

Craig felt is left arm starting to itch, just below his elbow. He reached up with his right hand and started to scratch at it. He couldn't quite find his voice at that moment.

Jack's eyes followed the motion of Craig's hand and he sighed and patted the bed on his left side. "Stop looking so damn miserable and get in the damn bed." He spoke calmly.

Craig didn't move. "I'm sorry Jack." He barely got the words out, still scratching at the itch that seemed to be growing.

Jack laughed."Kid, if you think being sorry is going to get you out of me having my revenge, you are going to be in for one hell of a surprise." There seemed to be a hint of mischief behind Jack's eyes, but it faded when he glanced at the boy's scratching. "Come on, stay in here with me tonight."

"You aren't mad?" Craig still didn't move into the room, scratching a little harder than he had been a moment earlier.

Jack looked at him for a long moment before cracking a thin smile. "Naw, I'm not mad. I will get you back, but how could I possibly stay mad at you when it seems that it gave so many people such a great amount of pleasure." He motioned to his left side of the bed again. "Now come on, you gonna stay in here with me tonight or you gonna go back to that freaky pink room with all of the butterflies?"

Craig felt as if a weight had been lifted off of him. He stepped into the room and crawled over Jack to the side of the bed free of the drainage tube. He had barely gotten into the bed when Jack grabbed his hand and pulled it away from the itch that he'd been scratching at. "You want to talk to Bobby?"

Craig nodded his head and let himself lean into Jack. It was nice having Jack close, knowing that he wasn't pissed at him anymore, but he wanted to hear Bobby's voice. The air around him felt thick and full of electricity, and he was afraid of what his senses were telling him. He wanted to know that everything was going to be okay.

"I talked to them a while ago. They're at home. I'll call and you can talk to him." Jack picked up his cell phone and dialed the number.

Craig was feeling a little more at ease, knowing that any second he'd be able to hear Bobby's voice, and he'd know everything was going to be alright.

Jack held the phone to his ear longer than he should have, and the puzzled expression on the man's face set off alarms inside Craig's head. "What is it?" He asked quietly.

Jack looked at him and shook his head slowly. "They aren't answering." He mumbled the words and pulled the phone down, starting the call over a second time. He held the phone back up and listened intently. "They wouldn't be in bed yet, it's only nine thirty." He didn't seem to be talking to Craig exactly, but he glanced at the boy.

Craig felt the fear inside of him growing. "Jack, do you think that something happened?" He felt the quiver in his voice and didn't care.

"No, I'm sure it's nothing like that. Bobby probably let the damn battery on the phone go dead. You know how he likes to leave it laying around." He forced a laugh as he hit the button to end the call. He glanced at Craig. "I'll try Jerry's phone." He told the boy while he hit more buttons on the phone.

Craig watched as the concern creased deeper into Jack's features. "Jack?" He asked quietly.

"He's on the phone; it went directly to his voicemail." He announced as he started hitting more buttons. He looked at Craig, "Angel." He explained who he was trying to call now.

Angel answered his phone after five rings, but just as he did the sound of the front door crashing open filled the apartment, followed instantly by Sofi and Maria's screams, and more crashing.

"Shit!" Jack yelled out, grabbing Craig's arm. "Go! Now! You get the hell out of here! Run!" He yelled as he managed to get to his feet and pull Craig out of the bed, holding onto the wall with his free hand.

Craig didn't have time to react to what was happening. His entire body seemed to freeze up on him as Jack pulled him out of the bed, and out into the hallway. From the hall they could see men in the living room, struggling to get past Sofi, who was armed with a rolling pin. Maria had the broom, and was swinging the wooden handle as if it were a baseball bat, forcing the men to one side of the room. The women seemed to have the men pinned for the moment closer to the kitchen, leaving a path to the front door wide open.

Craig let Jack pull him at a much faster pace than the boy thought he should be capable of. He felt his heart racing, and the panic in his gut drove him to keep up with Jack, who seemed to have experienced a surge of energy and strength that greatly contrasted his weak state the past couple of days. The room was filled with screaming and yelling, and the sounds of objects crashing to the floor as they were knocked off of shelves and tables seemed to blend into the mix causing a loud roar to rise in the air. Craig could feel the cold air rushing into him as they drew closer to the remains of the wooden door that looked as if it had been blasted to pieces.

"Jack look out!" Sofi screamed out from behind them.

Craig didn't have a chance to look back before he felt Jack push him ahead of him. "Run like hell!" His brother ordered and turned back to the room. Craig started to run, but it seemed he'd barely gotten two steps when the weight of a body slammed into him from behind, sending him face first into the gravel and snow to the left of the door. His head made contact with something hard and his entire body went limp. He wasn't unconscious. He could feel hands grabbing him and hauling him up into the air.

He heard Jack yelling inside the apartment, but he couldn't make out the words, with no warning the sound of automatic gun fire filled the air. Then dead silence, except for the laughing that seemed to surround him as arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him back away from the light that was filtering through the door of the apartment. He was sure he heard the sound of a car engine running hard, headed towards him, but his vision was blurred and he couldn't make out much of anything around him except for the contrasts from the lights and shadows that seemed to be swimming around in all directions. Then the light became blinding and the sound of the racing engine seemed to be right up on him.


	34. Chapter 34

Let me know what you think please? Thanks for reading :)

Legal statement still applies.

* * *

**Chapter 34: Pissed Off**

Bobby hit eighty miles an hour on the straight away of the main avenue leading to the apartment where he'd left Jack and Craig. His pulse was still pounding in his temples, and he couldn't seem to loosen his grip on the steering wheel enough to get rid of his white knuckles, one of which was swelling up and seeping blood down the back of his hand.

He ran several stop signs, but there had been no traffic at the intersections at the time. It was when he came to the first red light that Jerry pulled his cell phone down from his ear long enough to yell at him to watch what the hell he was doing. He laid on his horn, swerved out into the oncoming traffic to make it past the three cars sitting at the intersection, and barreled through the fast moving cars traveling from both his left and right on the cross street. The air filled with the sound of car horns, with several of them ended up on the side walk when they swerved to miss his speeding car.

"Damn it Bobby! Watch it!" Angel echoed Jerry's words from his position in the back seat.

Anthony had been telling them that his boss wanted Craig, but he hadn't gotten to the reason of why his boss wanted Craig. Bobby's mind was playing all sorts of possibilities out in his mind, but as he pushed harder on the gas, taking the needle on the speedometer past the eighty mile an hour mark he glanced back at the boy who was staring straight ahead, wide eyed, with the blood still dripping from his wounded mouth. "Keep talking Anthony, why the hell would your ass hole of a boss want my brother?" Bobby yelled the words as he approached the next intersection at full speed, and could tell it was going to be a repeat of the previous traffic light.

"He says he's his father." Anthony spoke just loud enough for Bobby to hear him over the roar of the engine.

"What the fuck is his name Anthony?" Angel grabbed the kid by the front of his shirt and gave him a hard jerk towards him, pulling his still bleeding face into view directly in front of him.

"Adam Macks." Anthony answered without any hesitation.

The sound of the name made Bobby feel like crawling out of his skin at that moment, drawing bile into his throat, burning and choking at him. "Shit!" He yelled and hit his horn as he reached the red light.

He swerved hard to the left, rocking his passengers in that direction, and then back to the right, sending them back to where they had started, still sounding his audible warning to the traffic in front of him. The back tires hit a patch of ice and started to fishtail on him, forcing him to let off the gas and struggle with the car's desire to start spinning out of control. He heard the responding sounds of horns, breaks screeching and squealing rubber as his car rocketed past the cross street. He regained full control of the wheel and pushed on the gas again, the next street was where he needed to turn. They were getting closer, and he could feel his blood surging red hot through his veins, the ringing in his ears intensified and his pulse started pounding harder. He felt as if he were going to burst wide open. "You were helping his father?" He knew he yelled the words but they were barely audible to him; drowned out by the rage that was boiling over inside of him.

Anthony was still looking into Angel's eyes. "I didn't know, man, he told me things. I'm sorry." His face was marred with fear and his body seemed to cower under the man's glare.

"We'll deal with you after we get there. No matter what, you keep your ass in this car." Angel let go of his hold on the boy and let him shrink down into the seat. He turned his attention back to his brothers in the front seat of the car. "We haven't heard anything from Jack, and if there was anything wrong he would have called us, right?"

Jerry, who had been on the phone with Green the entire ride up to that point, flipped his phone closed and quickly slid it into the pocket of his shirt just under his coat. "They got that kid in the yard." He announced. "Green says to slow the fuck down Bobby; he's got units heading that way now." He barely got the words out as Bobby came up behind the back end of a Toyota and jerked the wheel to his left to pass him. The big round headlights of an oncoming vehicle much larger than their car illuminated the interior, showing the wide eyes of the three men.

Bobby yelled something that was supposed to be, "Oh shit!" While Angel and Jerry both yelled out incoherent verbal abuse aimed towards the eldest brother.

Anthony poked his head up from behind Bobby's seat, but as soon as he seen the headlights directly in front of them, looming far above the hood of the car, he ducked back down, yelling something about only wanting to do the right thing and he didn't want to die.

Bobby twisted the steering wheel back towards the right, just as they cleared the front end of the Toyota, the eighteen wheeler they had been playing chicken with blasted it's air horn in the same instant as it sped past them, making contact with the rear end of the car. The Toyota slammed on its breaks, sending it into a spin, while Bobby did his best to maneuver his own out of control car over the curb, through a grassy lot, and into the parking lot of an all night drug store.

The people walking calmly in the lot managed to jump out of the way and get clear at the last second, the horn sounding under Bobby's hand warning them in time of the danger hurling towards them. Bobby didn't try to hit his break, he laughed at the sheer luck that the drug store sat on the corner of an intersection just one street shy of where he had intended to make the careless turn into traffic, "We're almost there!" He yelled out. Now he only needed to get through this parking area and onto the side street. It would take him down to the street where the apartments were located.

"You crazy fucker, you're gonna get us all killed." Angel yelled, holding onto the back door handle and the back of Jerry's seat.

"Bobby just slow the hell down man, this ain't doing no good!" Jerry cried out, placing a hand on the roof of the car above him, and bracing his legs down hard on the floor board as the car jumped the next curb and hit the slippery street, not once losing any speed.

There was a short moment of quiet, with only the sound of the engine revving hard and fast under them, and it was then that Angel realized his cell phone was ringing. He dug in his pocket, trying to stay upright in his seat while Bobby swerved in and out of the traffic on the street. The drivers in the other cars started blasting their horns, expressing their anger as Bobby zigged and then zagged around and in between them. "My phone!" Angel spoke loudly, as if that would slow Bobby down. He managed to dig the electronic device out of his pocket and flip it open on the fifth ring. "Jack?"

Jack's voice yelled out on the other end, "Shit!" The yell was directly in Angel's ear at that moment, but then it sounded as if Jack dropped the phone. "Go! Now! You get the hell out of here! Run!"

Angel held the phone tighter to his ear. "Jack!" He yelled, and looked to the front of the car. "Bobby, hit the fucking gas!" He sounded scared.

Bobby glanced at his brother in the mirror and did what he had been told, pressing down harder on the gas and whizzing past more cars. He could sense the urgency in Angel's voice and see the panic in the younger man's eyes. "Hold on!" He turned sharply to the right at the next street, the street he wanted. He could see the lights from the parking lot of the small apartment complex at the end of the dead end street, just on the other side of a partially completed house under construction.

He didn't stick to the street, he gunned the engine even harder, turned into the gravel drive of the construction area and headed across the snow and ice covered mud hole separating him from the back side of the apartment buildings. He could feel the tires sliding in the mud, but kept the car running hard, not losing much speed and cutting the distance between him and his younger brothers by more than a hundred yards. He tunneled between two of the apartment buildings, turning the wheel as he hit the gravel landscaping and snow between the brick structures and the sidewalk. The car spun around under his steering, aiming towards the building at the far end of the complex, the tires squealing and sputtering on the clean blacktop as it spun into the position he wanted. His headlights swung around with the car, landing on the door of Sofi's mother's apartment. There were three cars parked outside the unit, their doors all standing wide open and there seemed to be countless men swarming around the place.

Bobby's heart jumped to his throat when he realized Craig was outside, being half carried, half dragged away from the apartment, towards one of the cars. He didn't take the time to think about what he was doing, he never let off the gas, and was ascending on the intruders with the same speed he'd practiced on the street. He felt the yell emitting from his throat, and he was sure he heard Jerry yelling in unison.

The sound of gunfire rang out from inside the apartment just as his headlights bore down on the sidewalk. Bobby hit his high beams, blinding the men dragging his baby brother away from the door, and the sight of blood flowing freely down the side of the boy's head only fueled the rage that had been burning deep inside of his gut. He twisted the wheel at the last minute, turning into the closest car between him and the assailants.

The airbags on both the driver's side and the passenger's side deployed with a force almost as great as the sudden impact. Grinding metal and shattering glass filled the air around them, but the crash didn't stop the car, it was carrying too much momentum. He felt his mother's car spin around rapidly on the clean blacktop, and then felt it tip up on the right tires for just a moment before it flipped completely over, rolling twice until it came to rest on its wheels more than a hundred feet from the apartment.

Bobby's mind felt numb for a moment, and he wasn't quite sure exactly what the hell had happened, but he managed to compose himself quickly when he heard Jack's voice shouting from inside the apartment, "Is every one okay?" He yelled to his other two brothers as he pushed hard on his door, forcing it to open despite the crinkled, tin can look it now sported.

"I'm fine." Jerry was getting out on his side of the car. Bobby heard Angel mumble something about his arm, but the man was getting out of the car, dragging an unconscious Anthony along with him. Bobby's legs felt like wet noodles when they tried to support the weight of his body. He focused his attention on the men, and the apartment. He pulled his gun and was about to move towards the obvious gangsters clad in fine clothing, when the air filled with gunfire, exploding into the last remaining remnants of car glass. The man ducked and somehow managed to move his feet fast enough to get around the car to the relative safety of the crashed metal, where his brothers were both hunkered down. Anthony was lying on his back, and it was then that Bobby realized the boy wasn't unconscious, he was dead. His blank eyes were staring up at the night sky, and blood was pooling under his head.

Bobby Mercer's heart wrenched at the thought that he'd probably just killed the kid. He'd put him in danger, and dragged him along with them because he was pissed at him. Hell, he'd been ready to kill him his self just a short time before. Now he was dead, and Bobby could see that he was just a little boy, not much older than Craig, and he felt as if he should have done something different.

Angel seemed to be reading Bobby's face in the short instant that it had taken the man to start mentally berating himself for putting the kid in danger. "Bobby, it wasn't the crash, it was a fucking bullet." He spoke quickly. "They shot him." He reached out and hit his brother's arm hard.

Bobby looked at Angel, and it seemed his brother's words brought him out of whatever state his mind had started to wander into. Bobby pulled his gun, and yelled out as he stood to take aim over the top of the car. He fired off three rounds at the men pulling Craig across the lot, towards another waiting car. "Craig!" He screamed out as he fired, "Craig!"

Angel and Jerry followed their brother's lead, Angel aiming for the car rather than the men, taking out one of the tires, and then aiming for the gas tank. He pulled up on his gun when he realized Craig was being dragged to close. If he shot the tank and the car went up, the whole thing would explode and take his brother with it.

The men seemed to toss Craig's limp body into the back seat, one of them shot back at what was left of the Mercer car while the rest of the men loaded into the remaining cars and then sped away, the car carrying Craig away spraying sparks from the rim exposed by the flat tire.

Bobby ran across the lot after the vehicles, firing off the last rounds out of his clip. He stopped, screaming at the retreating tail lights. He turned and looked at the nearest car to him; an old VW Bug that looked like it had seen its better days. He didn't care; he had to catch up to the sons of bitches that had just taken his little brother. He walked up to it and pulled on the door handle, but it was locked. He looked around the lot and spotted a large rock that would work perfectly for busting out the door glass. He was about to pick up the rock when he realized Jerry and Angel weren't joining him, they were running to the apartment. Jack. Damn, it felt like three weeks ago all over again.

Bobby reached the door just a few seconds after Angel and Jerry, and found Jack sitting on the couch, blood staining the front of his shirt. Sofi was on the phone, and her mother was shouting at Angel in quick Spanish that seemed to snap off of her lips crisply. Angel was trying to calm the older woman down. Jerry was at Jack's side, on the couch, inspecting his chest closely.

"Jack?" Bobby moved to his younger brother, sure that he was going to find bullet holes on his body.

"I'm okay, but the tube was pulled out." Jack spoke with a gasp. "They took him." He sounded as if he were going to cry. "Damn it, I tried, but they…."

"I know Jack, I know." Bobby crouched down in front of him. "You're okay? No new holes?" He asked with concern.

"I'm fine." Jack looked up at the ceiling. "They just shot up the ceiling to get us to stop fighting them." He shook his head. "They never once pointed a gun at any of us."

"Wrong, they pointed their guns at us." Bobby's voice turned ice cold. He looked at Jerry for a long moment, "And they killed the only person who would know where the hell they took Craig." He pointed out; the chill of his words seemed to spread out into the air around them. Jack started to shiver.

"Not really." The voice from the door way alerted them all to the new presence in the room. Bobby turned to look at Green standing in the door way. The walls of the room started to light up with the reflections of red and blue lights.

"A little late, aren't you Green?" Bobby spoke sarcastically, pissed at himself for letting the whole thing go down, pissed that he'd separated his family, exposing his brothers to the danger that was waiting for them, and falling into the trap that had been set of them. He was pissed that he'd trusted a cop to help him figure out what the hell was going on, and for Anthony lying dead next to his mother's car. He was pissed because some sick fucker had his little brother, and because he hadn't been able to stop any of it.

"You can be pissed off all you want Bobby, but we do have one person who knows what the hell this is all about, and if they got Craig, he'll know where they took him." Green spoke quickly, but his voice was calm, and it seemed to be calming in the midst of all the destruction around them at that moment, calming even for Bobby.

Bobby stared at Green as realization kicked his brain hard. They had Terry.

* * *

Craig heard Bobby's yells. He heard him, he was yelling his name from somewhere out of reach, somewhere far away in that spinning whirlwind that was sucking him down. His brother was there though; he was going to make everything okay. His body still wouldn't move for him, and his head was spinning wildly, everything was blurred, and vague. Lights and shadows, that was all that he could really comprehend. But he heard Bobby's voice. Somewhere on the other side of that blinding pain pounding at his brain he heard his brother, his oldest brother, his guardian, and protector. The closest thing to a real father that he'd ever known.

He felt himself being carried by those arms wrapped tightly around his waist, moving backwards, he thought, and then he felt smooth leather under him, and though the world around him was spinning, he kept his mind focused on the fact that Bobby was there. Bobby was going to get to him, and make the pain in his head stop. He would make the world stop spinning, and hold onto him, and keep him safe. Bobby was going to do what fathers were supposed to; he was going to do what he always did. Then he felt hands holding him down, but wasn't sure why, he wasn't trying to move, not that he could have at that moment if he had tried, but he wasn't trying.

He was trying to remember exactly what had happened, he wasn't sure. "Bobby." He tried to call out, but the word only came out as a moan, he could hear it, and it confused him. It felt as if his body was in motion and that only intensified the dizzy feeling, pulling on his stomach as the spinning around him quickened. He could hear voices, but none of them were Bobby's and he wondered where Bobby had gone, he was waiting for him; and then he felt a cloth covering his mouth and nose, filling his nostrils with a sickening odor that seemed to overwhelm him in only a matter of seconds. His brain started to spin off into a black cloud, sucking all thoughts and comprehension from his mind. His last thought before slipping into that cloud of blackness, was that Bobby was going to make this stop, he was going to get to him, and he was going to make him feel better.


	35. Chapter 35

Thanks for reading, I really appreciate the reviews :)

Legal stuff still counts.

* * *

**Chapter 35: Bugs**

Bobby stood in the kitchen doorway, watching the paramedics ease Jack onto a gurney and strap him down securely. They had managed to stop the bleeding. Apparently one the ass holes who had busted in had grabbed hold of Jack, grabbing the drainage tube and jerking it out of his chest. He was going to need surgery. Bobby worried more about the way Jack kept apologizing to him, telling him he was sorry, he'd tried to get Craig out of there, tried to get him to somewhere safe. Hell, it wasn't Jack's job to keep Craig safe. It had been Bobby's job to keep them both safe, and he had failed miserably. There was a pressure building in his chest that he didn't want t acknowledge, it was the same pressure he'd felt when found out his mother was dead.

Angel sat on the couch, another medic examining his left arm which was starting to swell and turn a sickly looking blue; it looked as if it might be broken. Sofi was standing next to him, with her hand resting on his shoulder, trying to give some comfort, but tears were streaking her own face, and Bobby felt for her. He didn't like seeing her hurting because he'd made the mistake of bringing his brothers to her mother's home.

Jerry was behind him in the kitchen, sitting in a chair, letting a medic check him as well, Bobby had insisted on that though Jerry had said that he was okay. A bruise was forming on his forehead, and Bobby had pushed him down into the chair and yelled for one of the medics to take a look at him. He didn't want Jerry walking around with an injury to his head and not know about it. That was all he needed, to have to explain to Camille about a brain injury her husband had suffered under his watch. Okay, he may have been exaggerating, but he was concerned about his brother. He hadn't grabbed for his cell phone to call his wife, and that just wasn't like Jerry.

The police were filtering in and out of the apartment, though most of the attention seemed to be concentrated on the dead teenager lying next to crashed Mercer vehicle in the parking lot. Sofi's mother was hot on Green's heels the whole time, following him around everywhere he went, asking what the hell the cops were going to do about her home. Green tactfully handed her off to a woman in uniform, and told the officer to get in touch with a county department that should be able to help her out, for the night at least.

Bobby was lost in his thoughts, watching the activity playing out in front of him. They would all have to give their statements, and he was sure Green would be the officer to take them, he just hoped to God it happened quickly. He needed to get his brothers taken care of, make sure that Jack was alright in the hospital, and then he had to find Craig.

Jerry's presence was made known when he placed his hand on Bobby's shoulder from behind. "Your turn," He spoke quietly.

Bobby turned and looked at Jerry. "What?" He didn't understand his brother's words.

Jerry nodded towards the paramedic standing next to the chair he had just vacated. "Your turn, sit your ass down and let him check you over." He wasn't asking; his voice had a demanding tone to it.

"I'm fine." Bobby shrugged out from under Jerry's hand and looked back to Jack. They were getting ready to wheel him out of the apartment. He quickly stepped over just before they started to move. "Jack, we'll see you at the hospital." He grabbed hold of Jack's hand.

Jack had been lying under the oxygen mask with his eyes closed. He opened them up and looked at Bobby. "You need to find the kid." He spoke weakly. "You need to tell him that I'm not pissed at him."

"I will. Don't worry, I will. Right now you do what these guys tell you to and I'll see you at the hospital." Bobby gave Jack's hand a quick squeeze. "I love you man." He spoke just loud enough for Jack to hear him.

"Yeah, me too," Jack smiled a thin smile and looked past Bobby.

Bobby turned slightly to see Angel standing there with his arm in a sling. "You okay man?"

"I'm riding with 'Jackie Poo', gonna get my arm x-rayed and probably a cool looking cast." He forced a grin.

"You were bustin' off shots with a broken arm?" Bobby managed to grin at the man.

"Well hell, someone had to hit something, you were too busy screaming your fucking head off, and Jerry never could shoot worth shit." Angel spoke with a mocking tone. He gave Bobby a sideways glance, but managed a smile of his own. "I get to ride with Jack; I'll keep an eye on him." He sighed.

"Thanks brother." Bobby nodded his head. He and Angel traded a quick hug.

"And you let them check you out, man, you don't look so good." Angel spoke as they pulled apart.

Bobby looked a little surprised by the statement. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me, you just take care of yourself, and watch out for Jack.

"Man, there is one more thing." Angel glanced over to where Sofi now stood with her mother.

Bobby sighed heavily. "Yeah, man, bring them home." He nodded his head. It was the least he could do, since Maria's home had been shot up, her possessions smashed and destroyed, all on account of him not seeing the trap that had been set up. He deserved the torture of having the two lunatic ladies living under his roof, at least for a few days. He watched as Sofi and Maria followed Angel out of the apartment, and could hear Angel telling Sofi to pack up some things and take her mother to their house. Sofi turned back and gave Bobby what appeared to be a grateful smile, but she didn't say anything.

Bobby turned back to Jerry, who was standing just inside the kitchen door, with both medics flanking him on each side.

"You are gonna be checked out man, ain't gonna take no for an answer." Jerry crossed his arms at his chest as if he were fully in control of the situation.

Bobby cringed inside. Shit, he'd had to get Angel straight on who the hell was in charge, now it seemed he was going to have to do the same with Jerry. Why couldn't they all just let him run the family the way he knew was best? He was getting tired of going through all of the crap just to get his brothers to cave in and admit that he was the oldest, and he was the head of the family, and that he knew what the hell he was doing. Although, at that moment he wasn't feeling as confident as he had earlier that day. Things had changed drastically in the past twenty four hours, and he was really getting tired of the bullshit that seemed to be thrown at his family continuously.

He sat down on the couch and let the medics give him a quick once over. One of them treated his hand, and wrapped it up tight, but it was determined that he was fine, just like he'd insisted. He noticed Jerry was on his cell phone while the medics did their job. Now that was more like it.

Green walked back into the apartment, and looked at Bobby. "Well, you look like you're still in one piece." He forced a smile.

Bobby stood and walked up to the detective. "Well? Has your little investigation here told you anything about where the hell my brother might be?" He asked, cynicism dripping from his words. Of course they hadn't found anything out, and they wouldn't. This was a waste of time. "We need to find Adam Macks, and we need to find him now. He has Craig, and there's no telling what the hell he's gonna do to him!" He nearly yelled the words.

Jerry moved to Bobby's side. "Just calm down and let him talk Bobby." Jerry looked at Green. "Well? Have you found anything here that might help?"" He asked.

Green looked at Jerry and then back to Bobby. "That car you crashed into out there." He half turned and pointed towards the parking lot outside of the door.

Bobby felt his head turning slightly in order for his gaze to follow the direction Green was pointing. "What about it?"

"They weren't able to drive it away from here Bobby, and there are tags on the vehicle." Green almost smiled.

Bobby's gaze shot back to Green, "And?" He asked quickly.

"And it's registered to a corporation right here in Detroit." Green's eyes narrowed, but he kept them fixed on Bobby for a long moment before he spoke. "Winston Industries," He finally announced.

"Jessup Winston," Jerry spoke the name quietly. "Wait a minute, this ain't his style, you said so yourself."

Green looked a Jerry and nodded his head just slightly. "I said that. But it's Adam Macks' style." He looked back at Bobby. "I have some men knocking on the judge's front door right now to get a warrant." He drew in a deep breath. "We need to ask Winston some questions. I think he has ties to Macks. It wouldn't be surprising. They both did jobs for Sweet; they've probably worked with each other before."

Bobby felt his heart starting to hammer hard in his chest. "Fuck a warrant; I don't need no warrant to question him." He started to move past Green, but the man grabbed him by the shoulders, stopping him.

"Bobby, let me do this my way. You're gonna have your chance, but some things have to happen first. I need both you and Jerry at the station to get your statements. We need to get you a car too, you can't drive Evelyn's."Green pointed out quickly.

"You don't understand Green, my brother is gonna be home by morning, I don't care if I have to burn up half of Detroit to do it, but I'm getting to him before the sun rises." Bobby nearly growled the words, the pressure in his chest intensifying. Damn, it hurt to breathe. He moved to push the hands away from him and the pain turned sharp, driving him forward. He doubled over and held onto his chest, "Son of a bitch!" He tried to yell out, but the pain in his chest choked the words down to a sickly sounding groan.

"Bobby?" Jerry grabbed hold of him, and the paramedics seemed to be on him instantly, like vultures moving in for a meal.

"I'm fine." Bobby tried again to push the hands away, but to no avail. Moments later he was back on the couch and the medics were pulling at his shirt. Bobby couldn't help but understand at that moment how Craig had felt just a few weeks earlier when he'd been in the hands of medics very much like these. After what Sweet had done to him, he'd had to endure people pulling at him and removing clothes. The kid had already felt vulnerable, and then strangers had forced him to let them do whatever the hell they wanted. Sure, they'd been trying to help, but he hadn't wanted it, not right then. Just like Bobby didn't want it at that moment. He had to find that kid and he didn't have a lot of time, he didn't have time for the bullshit.

* * *

Craig could feel his brain pounding hard against the inside of his skull, as if it were trying to escape the confines it was trapped in. He tried to turn his body, but it wouldn't respond to him. He was lying on cold concrete, and he didn't feel very well at all. He was sure he could roll onto his side and throw up at that very moment, if only he could get his body to move in that direction.

Muffled voices reached him, but they sounded as if they were coming from somewhere deep inside a tunnel, and he couldn't make them out. He tried to force his eyes open, but the dark remained in front of him. He tried to call out for Bobby, to ask him if he could turn on the light, he couldn't see anything. His voice responded, but it sounded slurred, detached, and faint. He tried again to get part of his body to move for him, and was almost surprised when he managed to get his hand to move a fraction of an inch. He moaned involuntarily as his arm finally relented and rose up towards his throbbing head. His hand rested on the left side of his head, and he felt the sticky substance that seemed to be caking around the area where his head hurt most. He felt the bump just behind his temple, and the gash that accompanied it. He blinked his eyes hard, but the dark stayed the same, suffocating him, and making him feel as if he were drowning. He reached both arms up and felt to each side of him. Rough feeling concrete block met the palms of his hands. He realized his legs were bent, his knees pointing upwards, and when he felt with his feet, his bare toes felt the same rough surface under them and to the sides. His first thought was that he was in a closet, but it seemed almost too small for a closet, and who had ever heard of a concrete block closet?

Confusion swept over him in a swift wave. He used his hands and feet to sit himself up, and immediately wished he'd stayed down on the floor. He hated closed in spaces, and he hated the dark. He tried again to call out for Bobby, his rattled brain reasoning that Bobby had locked him in a closet for some reason. He didn't understand it. Bobby had never locked him up anywhere before. The only person who had ever done that was…

His mind screamed out at him to stop thinking. Stop thinking and get back down. If he was caught sitting up he'd be in trouble. His body started shivering hard, and he hugged at himself trying to keep warm. His fingers found the seam of the shirt he was wearing and he started to play with it, all the while fighting off the fear that his dark confinement was driving into him. His head felt as if it were swimming around in that cold black void spread out in front of him, and a few times he was sure he felt himself tipping to one side, though he didn't think it was real. His stomach still felt as if it was about to empty out on him. He rested his face against the cement and was amazed at how cool it felt to him, almost as if his cheek was hot, but he was shivering.

He let his eyes close, and his perplexed brain started to flash pictures of his father dragging him to the closet and throwing him in. He hated the closet. There were spiders and bugs crawling around in that closet, and it terrified him. That thought brought on the feeling that something was crawling on his arms, causing them to itch hard. He started scratching at the the sensation, following it when it moved, and then it seemed to move to his legs. He was sure there were bugs and spiders swarming his whole body, and he couldn't get rid of them. He wanted to go home. That thought seemed to bring him back to a half coherent state. He remembered he hadn't been at home. He'd been at Sofi's mother's apartment, though the reason was just out of reach of his memory. He'd had his hair cut. His right hand reached up and felt at the short hair, as if to validate the memory that was revealing it's self slowly. He remembered butterflies floating around in a sea of pink, drowning and fluttering all at the same time.

He remembered Jack was angry with him. He wasn't sure why, but Jack had been angry, and he'd felt awful. What had he done? He couldn't remember. Then Jack was yelling at him. He remembered Jack's voice yelling at him, but it hadn't been anger fueling the yells, it had been fear. Craig had heard fear in his brother's voice. He continued to scratch the whole time his mind was twisting around the puzzling path of his memories, but the sensation of bugs crawling across his skin seemed to strengthen.

The voices on the other side of the wall seemed to be back now. He wasn't sure if they had ever really left, but he was hearing them again. Maybe it was the angry tones they possessed; he wasn't sure what had drawn his attention back to them. He couldn't make out the words, and one voice was unknown to him. It was the second voice that sent a cold chill down his back and caused his stomach to heave uncontrollably, but it stopped after the first gut twisting haul at his stomach, and nothing came up. He knew that voice all too well. He felt his left thumb inch to his mouth, and he started chewing on the nail as the five year old inside of him took over. It was his dad. "Bobby!" His mind screamed out, but he was sure he hadn't actually verbalized it, had he?

The door next to him opened, and Adam Macks looked down at him, an angry smile creased on his mouth. "Well hello, son," His teeth seemed to be grinding together. "Welcome home." The voice was unpleasant, and seemed to hold a silent threat.

* * *

Bobby walked out of the emergency room exit with Jerry and Angel both right on his heels. As soon as the three of them had been treated they had checked on Jack, and he was sleeping. He would be out for the night, and he was doing fine, nothing that another day or two in the hospital wouldn't take care of. Bobby had been sure to tell Jack what was going on, in a quiet whisper so that the nosey nurse that kept walking into the room couldn't hear. Now he was on his way to get Craig, despite the protests of his brothers. "You heard what the doctor said Bobby." Angel warned.

"I'm fine." Bobby stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, and looked around. "Shit. We don't have no fucking car." He cried out.

"You've got three busted ribs Bobby. You can't do this shit, not in the condition you're in." Jerry spoke up.

Bobby turned and looked at the vinyl splint Angel's arm had been put into, and the bandage to the left side of Jerry's forehead. He felt at his own chest, his ribs wrapped up so tight he could barely breathe, "You guys okay?" He asked; his voice a little calmer than before.

"Yeah, man I'm good." Jerry shrugged his shoulders.

Angel nodded his head. "It's just a cracked bone." He held his arm up.

"Green wants us down at the station." Jerry commented. "He needs our statements."

"Well, we ain't got no car Jerr'." Bobby pointed out. "Besides, I'm going after Jessup Winston. I'm gonna find out where the fuck they have Craig and then I'm going after him. You both go home, and take care of yourselves; I'll be home in the morning." He turned as if he were going to walk off curb of the sidewalk. "Make sure you call and check on Jack a few times tonight. If he wakes up one of you need to get your ass back down here."

Angel and Jerry both grabbed the man, each taking an arm and pulling him back. Bobby turned back to them, ready to argue with them if he needed to. They weren't going to stop him.

"You just pointed out that you ain't got a car." Angel spoke calmly.

"I'll get one. We don't need to discuss how, but I will get one." Bobby turned back towards the parking lot and started inspecting the cars parked there for one that looked as if it had some speed to it.

"You really think we're gonna let you take off and do dumb shit without us?" Jerry asked the question loud enough for Bobby to hear.

Bobby looked back at his brothers. "You two don't need to be in on this. I'm going against Green; he won't back us up on this." He shook his head. "There's no reason for all three of us to go down for this one."

"Bobby, if we can get information from Winston, and we give to Green, he'll back us up." Jerry shook his head. "You think he didn't know you would take off after that man once you knew there was a definite connection to what the hell went down? Come on man, give him a little credit. If he didn't want you to go, he never would have told you shit."

Bobby let the meaning of Jerry's words absorb into his brain. It took a few moments, and he was more than willing to blame the pain killers the doctor had pumped into him while he'd been laying there in the hospital wasting valuable time.

At that moment a car pulled up behind Bobby. He half turned to look, expecting to see someone being dropped off at the curb, but was surprised to see Sofi climbing out of a black Cutlass Supreme, the body shiny and looking practically like new. He spun back around to look at Angel, surprised by what was taking place.

"Hell, you blew up your car to save my ass, I figured you were gonna need something. Sofi's brother scouted it out for me today. What do you think? You think you can make it through the rest of the night without crashing it?" Angel's stare seemed to hold a threat.

Bobby grinned at his brother. "You know, I doubt that." He shook his head and walked around to the driver's door. "Let's go, we got shit to do." He called back as he got in behind the wheel. "I need to go buy some gas."

"You have to drop me off at the house Bobby." Sofi ordered.

Bobby looked up at her and smile. "Sofi, I'll take you anywhere you want to go, just hurry the hell up, I ain't got all fucking night."He meant that in the nicest way. After what that woman had been through, the least he could do was take her home. Besides, he was starting to feel a little rush of adrenaline at the thought of what he was going to be doing once he got her out of the car. He just prayed he could get to his brother before Adam Macks caused too much damage. Craig had already been put through hell, and hadn't gotten close to recovering completely. This shit was only going to make it worse, and drive him right back to where he had been just weeks before.


	36. Chapter 36

Sorry for the delay, one of those days :( Let me know what you think, and thanks to all for reading :)

Legal stuff still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 36: Bobby Mercer's God Given Talent**

Adam Macks reached down to grab Craig's arm. The boy tried his best to sink back, away from the man's touch, but he had nowhere to go. The cement wall behind him would not let him get out of reach. With the door of the closet opened he could see just how cramped his quarters had truly been, but at that moment he greatly preferred to remain inside the protection of the closet. The grip that Adam took on his arm was vice-like, and the hard jerk that followed seemed to pound into his brain, bringing his pain level up to white hot, and causing the world to spin. He could barely comprehend being dragged out of the closet and dropped back down, his body, nothing but dead weight; he hit the carpeted floor face first, hard enough that he could feel the cement underneath.

Craig felt his body begin to shiver hard, and he felt tears stinging at him. He fought them down with all his strength, knowing that he couldn't cry in front of Adam Macks; that had never been allowed. He couldn't cry, and he couldn't speak. He had to lay there and take whatever the man said and did to him without showing any kind of emotion or reaction. That was how it had always been. It didn't matter that it felt as if a jackhammer was pounding away at the inside off his head, he couldn't lose any control, he had to hold it all in.

"Well, what do you think?" Adam walked across the hard floor and motioned to the bare room. Craig squeezed his eyes closed, trying to get his head to stop whirling about on him. He didn't try to get up, he felt safer down on the floor, besides, he wasn't so sure he could stay upright without walls to support him. He opened his eyes and looked around the room from his position on his stomach. The same concrete blocks from the closet formed the walls, one side stained with a rusty looking substance. It looked and felt as if they were in a basement. There was one florescent light hanging from the ceiling, and the ceiling its self seemed to be a complicated maze of wires and pipes. There was no paint on any of the walls, and as his gaze moved downward, he seen water pipes running across one wall, one of them stood out from the wall, suspended a couple of feet above the floor. The sight of it seemed to bring his experience with Sweet to the front of his thoughts. He'd been handcuffed to pipes like that. He'd been trapped in a room just like this one; even the air felt the same.

Adam stared at him for a long moment before laughing. "Is it familiar?" He sounded cruel, and taunting.

Ice filled every vein in the boy's body as he realized this room wasn't just like that other room, it was the same room. He was back where ever it was that Sweet had kept him when he'd ripped his entire world to shreds. The boy held back a flood of tears and choked on the whine that was trying to escape his throat. He didn't try to respond to the question, he just squeezed his eyes closed hard and prayed that when he opened them he'd find himself lying in his own bed at home, this having been nothing more than one of his nightmares. He would be at home and his brothers would be there, and Bobby would take him to his mother's room and let him sleep in her bed where he felt safe. Bobby would keep the nightmares from coming back.

Adam walked around the room slowly. "This room was a mess, I had to have some people change out the carpet, and there's the blood on the wall that won't come off, but a little paint should take care of that. Just ain't had the time for that though." He seemed to be speaking in a very business-like tone.

Craig felt the man's presence directly next to him and opened his eyes to see his shoes directly in front of his face. He wanted to pull away, but still didn't seem to be able to get his body to respond to his commands. It was probably best that he didn't pull back, he knew that would just give his father an excuse to get angry, and he didn't think he could handle a sharp kick to his head at that moment.

"Well, let's take a look at you." Adam's voice drew closer and Craig was barely able to comprehend that he was leaning down, hovering over him. He felt arms being grabbed, and a moment later he was being rolled onto his back.

He had no choice but to look into his father's face. The man took a hard grip on his jaw and forced his head to turn from one side to the other, pausing hard when the injury on the side was in view. Craig found his mind thinking about how is father had looked when he was smaller. He'd seemed much bigger to him then, and he looked old now.

Not just older, but old. His hair was gray and greasy, and the several days' growth that dirtied his face looked like salt and pepper pasted into place. The creases around his eyes and forehead were deep and seemed to go on forever. His eyes looked even harder than they had when he was six years old. It hadn't really been that long since he'd been under his father's thumb, he was amazed at how quickly the man had aged. But Evelyn had always said that booze and drugs aged people quickly, and ate away at their minds. He was wondering just how much worse his father's mind was now. It had always been warped, and the boy was sure it was much worse by now.

"They weren't supposed to damage you." Adam spoke with a sigh and shook his head. "I know someone who can fix that up for you, and probably give you something to keep your head from hurting so much." He didn't really seem to be talking to the boy, more to himself. "We need to get you in shape for the trip. You can't ride in a car for six hours with your fucking head bleeding all over everything." His eyes finally met the boy's and he smiled that same sick smile that Craig had come to know meant he was about to be hurt. "So, should you go back into the closet, or should I put you on the pipes?"

Craig managed to shake his head slightly from the left to the right, not wanting either, but preferring the closet to the other. At least in the closet nothing could happen to him.

"I'll tell you what, I'll be very nice and tuck you into a nice warm bed for the time being. I think that would be the best place for you right now." Adam grabbed hold of him again and hauled him upwards.

Craig couldn't support his own weight on his legs, and that meant that he had to grab hold of the one man that he hated most in the world. He let his father support him and drag him over to the door on the side of the room opposite the pipes. He tried to make out details of where he was as Adam dragged him through the hall. He could hear what sounded like a television somewhere at the far end of the walkway, but they didn't go that far. He was pulled into another room.

There was only a bed, no other furniture. The only light came from the open door, but it was enough to see that there were no sheets on the bed, only a pillow and blanket. He couldn't help but wonder if it was the same bed he'd been allowed to sleep in when Sweet had him trapped there, there were rails on the head board that made it look as if it could be the same one he'd been tied to.

His father dropped him hard onto the bed, his legs still hanging off the edge. Craig was thankful that he was placed on his back and not his stomach. If he'd been on his stomach it would have only meant one thing. On his back he felt relatively safe. He felt his father swing his legs around onto the bed and then the blanket was dropped over him.

Craig's mind seemed to be slowly catching up to the situation, and couldn't help but think that his father was acting out of character. He was putting him into a bed, when it was more his style to stuff him back into that closet and leave him there for hours on end. He waited for his hands to be tied, but the man just stood there, looking down at him for a long moment.

"You relax while you can. Doc' should be here soon enough. Once he takes a look at you we'll be leaving." Adam finally spoke. The man shook his head slowly and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Leaving Craig in the dark once again.

* * *

While Bobby drove he listened to Angel telling him more details about Jessup Winston than he'd shared earlier that day. They were details that didn't seem all too important before, but now, now that they knew that there was a connection between that man and his missing brother, Bobby wanted to know every element concerning the man that had no issues with kidnapping a fourteen year old and handing him over to an abusive son of a bitch like Macks.

Apparently Jessup Winston lived in some fancy high rise apartment on the rich end of the city. He had money, and he lived well, but he wasn't the kind to flash it around for the most part. He had several legitimate businesses, and that was where Bobby Mercer was gonna start. He had several cans of gas, and one can of kerosene in the trunk of the car, and his first stop was the restaurant that Angel had confirmed had been taken over by Winston after Sweet was out of the picture. Bobby was good a burning shit, he was real good at it, and it was about time he was able to use his talents in the way God had intended.

He left his brothers waiting in the car to watch out for any one while he grabbed the can of kerosene and walked around through the alley to the back of the building. He was able to break into the back entrance easily, though the alarm started going off immediately. He started pouring the accelerant throughout the interior. He moved from the stainless steel kitchen to the dining area, leaving a trail behind him. He made his way back to the kitchen, where he found the gas connection to the stove and quickly disconnected it, allowing gas to flow freely into the building. He poured another trail from the busted in door out into the alley way behind the structure, and stood still for a moment, looking at the brick exterior.

He pulled a book of matches from his pocket. Cheep matches that were given away at the gas station where he'd gotten the gas. Hell, it amused him that a gas station could be a one place shopping stop for any arsonist. He laughed as he used his gloved hand to strike the match and let it start burning before dropping it into the kerosene. He didn't wait to watch the results of his efforts, he turned and ran back to where he'd left his brothers in the car.

There wasn't a soul around to see them, and according to Angel, at this point in time the car would be hard to trace if anyone did spot it. Bobby didn't know what the hell Sofi's brother was into, and for the most part he didn't want to know. The man had gotten him a ride, and for that he was grateful. He did wonder about the tags on the car though, it couldn't have been registered to him, but Angel had told him not to worry about it when he'd asked.

Bobby got back into the car and started driving down the street, smiling slightly when he heard the explosion behind him. Angel and Jerry both looked back to see the building going up in a furry of fire and smoke, parts of it flying away, into the parking area out front.

"Damn Bobby how much kerosene did you use?" Jerry asked quickly.

"Just enough." Bobby answered, glancing back once in the rearview mirror to see the beautiful sight behind him. Damn, he loved fire. "Okay, where in the hell does this fucker live? He should be getting his phone call about the time we show up." He glanced over at Angel.

"Not far actually." Angel started giving him directions, and Bobby drove at a casual rate of speed, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. He didn't want to arrive too early either, he wanted to make sure this Winston guy knew they were responsible for the destruction of his building, but he wanted him to be aware that his business had burned before they got there, it just seemed it would have the best effect on the man.

* * *

Jessup Winston was drawn out of his deep sleep by the ringing of his telephone. He reached out without opening his eyes and grabbed hold of the cell phone next to his bed, but realized without opening it that it was actually the landline that was ringing insensately next to his ear. He sat up, dropped his cell back onto the bedside stand, and grabbed the cordless handset that was resting next to it. He hated having so many lines and phones, but in his business, he needed the numerous forms of communication. He had one cell number for his family and legitimate business dealings, one cell for the other dealings he had going on the side. He had the home phone for emergencies, and besides, it was bundled with his internet service. He had the office phones, and he had the car phones, and somehow he actually managed to keep them all separated into categories and groups. Only using certain phones or numbers for certain deals, or people. Hell he had one number that was dedicated to his mother. He needed them all though. Each account under a different name, each number keeping him more separated from the dirty dealings that wracked at his conscious from time to time. His mother never raised him to be a criminal, hell, she was the most God fearing woman he'd ever met, and she bragged about him to all of her friends..

Winston shook his thoughts clear from his brain and picked up the phone. "Jessup." He muttered, trying his best to keep the thick sound of sleep out of his voice.

He listened as the speaker on the other end of the phone announced that his restaurant, the one that he'd managed to take over after Sweet was out of the picture, was destroyed in a fire. It had just happened and apparently it was the work of an arsonist. He listened, and let the words sink into his brain, which was becoming more and more alert with each passing second. He pushed the blankets away and swung his feet over the edge of the bed, pulling himself upright as he did.

He cleared his throat loudly and told the police officer on the other end of the phone that he would have one of his representatives down there as soon as possible. He hung up the phone and called the manager of the restaurant, quickly explaining the situation to him and asking him to go down and take care of it. The man agreed with no hesitation. He was a good man, and had seemed fairly happy that he was working under Winston rather than Sweet when he'd taken over. He took care of his people, paid them well and only asked that they did the best job that was possible for him. It was a concept that Sweet had never understood, but had worked for Jessup for years now.

His mind was quickly processing the information. He'd left Macks just a few hours earlier, after his men had deposited the boy at his feet. They hadn't had a very pleasant encounter that evening. Jessup had told him it was a bad idea to be using their business for personal gain, that he would be better off to just forget the kid and leave him where he was, but Macks had pulled it off anyway, using his men to nab the kid, and cause all sorts of trouble for them. He was sure the loss of his restaurant was connected somehow.

Jessup got out of his bed and grabbed the robe that had been carefully placed over the back of the chair next to the door of the bedroom. He pulled it on, tying the belt loosely around him and walked out into the open living, kitchen and dining area. There were no walls to separate the two thousand foot square foot of space, and that was why he liked the place. He hated walls, hated feeling closed in. He moved along the glistening marble floor to the table where his other phone lay, finding it easily in the light coming in from the windowrunning the expanse of the exterior wall. Every last inch of his home was spotless. Not a streak on the glass, not a spot on the floor. He was a fanatic about that. His place was cleaned every day, whether it needed it or not.

He dialed the number quickly, and waited for the answer. Adam Macks was going to pay for this. It was because he was impatient, and couldn't wait for the plan to play out that the shit was going bad. He could feel it, they were not going to succeed in getting Jeremiah Mercer to sign with them, and the rest of their dealings hinged on that happening; all of his hard work over the past week had been a waste of time.

Macks answered after six rings, and by that time Jessup Winston was losing his patience. "What the hell do you want now?" Macks' voice sounded slurred, but it wasn't from being awaken from a sound sleep. The stupid shit was on something, Winston could tell. It was almost one o'clock in the morning, and the man should have been taking care of other shit, not getting high. The thought pissed Winston off.

"Don't take that tone with me." Winston managed to keep his voice steady. "You fucked up. I told you before that you fucked up, but you didn't want to believe me."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." Macks laughed.

"What the hell are you on right now Adam? You ain't got the sense God gave you, do you? You need to be taking care of business, not getting stoned!" Winston was letting the tension show in his voice, but couldn't hold it back. "You got that kid, and I told you earlier you need to be getting him the hell out of town. What are you doing to work on that?"

"I have the Doc' looking at him now." Macks still sounded amused. "And then I got that school guy comin' to pick us up. Ain't no one gonna suspect him to be haulin' the kid around."

"What?" Winston sighed with aggravation. "You should have been on the road with that kid an hour ago.

"I'm doin' what the hell you said to do, don't be getting all fuckin' high and mighty on me Jessup. This is still gonna work out. You get your buddy on the zoning board to draw up the paper work, and then just make sure that you get that fucking Mercer to sign your papers, and we'll go from there." Adam didn't hold back his own irritation, though the tone sounded almost humorous to Jessup coming in the slurred, intoxicated state that they were.

Winston sighed and shook his head as he walked over to the plate glass that ran down the exterior of the entire penthouse, he opened the sliding door and let the cold winter air wash over his body, hoping it would clear his head and sooth his frustration. He didn't step out onto the patio balcony, it felt too empty for him. "They fucking burned my restaurant." He spoke calmly, "And that means that they know you and me are connected. You haven't told me everything that went down tonight, have you? You take my men without my knowledge and you give them orders, telling them they are from me, and then you fuck up everything that we have been working on. Why the hell should I keep working with you Adam? You are nothing but a screw up, you have no real sense of business, and you never will. You are just out to satisfy your own cravings, whether it be the booze, the drugs, or your sick urges." He nearly let his voice turn sinister, but managed to keep it calm. "Give me one good reason to keep working with you right now. What the hell is going to motivate Mercer to cut us in on that project now? He's not gonna trust me for shit."

"We got their little brother Jessup. Don't you think that will be motivation enough?" Adam's voice sounded as if it were void of all emotion right then.

"You don't plan on giving him back." Winston commented.

"But they don't know that." Was the response, then the line went dead.

Jessup closed up the cell phone and drew in a deep breath. He was thinking over Macks' words when the sound of hard pounding at his door vibrated throughout the living area. He slid the glass door closed and then turned and headed for the door. Security would only allow the police or one of his men to come up, so it wasn't as if he were concerned about who was at the door, though it did seem strange that no one had called him to announce the impending visit. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with the cops, and damn it, he had told them he would have someone coming down to the restaurant to talk to them.


	37. Chapter 37

Let me know your thoughts, and thanks for reading :)

Legal statement still applies...

* * *

**Chapter 37: Angel's Talents**

Bobby parked the car down the street from the building where Jessup Winston lived. He got out of the car and sighed as he looked up at the top floor, easily visible from where he stood two blocks away. Angel had said that he'd heard the man lived on the top floor of the fifteen story building. Angel and Jerry both joined Bobby, one on each side, all three staring up at the building. "Well, we know he's on the top floor, do we know what the number is?" Jerry asked the question quickly, rubbing his hands together.

"No, I don't know." Angel shook his head. "I guess the only thing to do is go inside and ask." He started walking ahead of Bobby and Jerry.

"Yeah, you do that; in the mean time I'm gonna check out the lay of the land."Bobby followed, pulling his leather coat around him snugly. "There has to be another way in, in case we can't get through the front door. And I doubt very much we are going to get through that fucking door."

Angel turned and gave Bobby a critical look. "We'll get in the front door; you just gotta let me do the talking and you keep your mouth shut. The building has Security, and a man like Winston depends on Security to do everything for him, from announcing visitors, to fielding and transferring calls. This building has that service, so if a call comes in to let him know his restaurant has been torched, Security will know about it before Winston does, they'll patch the call through to him. You just follow my lead and keep your fucking mouth shut."

There was a long moment of silence when as they three men walked. Jerry finally looked past Bobby, to Angel. "How the hell do you know what Security in this building does or doesn't do?" He looked confused.

Angel grinned, "It used to be part of my job to know how security in all these fancy buildings worked." He glanced over at Jerry. "How do you think I got in with all the big time dealings? I had to find my marks and work them. I can't work them if I can't get to them."

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "Brother, there is a lot about your past business that we don't know. You kept a lot of shit from us?" He asked quietly.

"More than you could ever imagine." Angel laughed. "It was all good though, I knew when to cut loose from that shit."

"You knew when you got your ass in too deep you mean." Jerry commented, keeping his stare straight ahead.

Angel nodded his head. "Maybe," He agreed. "Or maybe I just knew when I needed to straighten my shit out and do something worthwhile." He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself as much as his brothers as he spoke the words.

"You ain't got any goons out there ready to take your ass out, do you?" Bobby asked the question, his tone serious.

"Don't know about any goons, but there's a few guys a little less rich because of me." Angel smiled. They were nearing the entrance of the building. "Shit." He muttered.

"What?" Bobby asked, but he actually noted the security doors standing between them and the lobby before Angel had the chance to point them out. "Shit." He agreed quietly. "Looks like my plan. We check out the back of the building for any kind of emergency exits." He started to walk on past the doors, towards the corner of the facility.

"Wait." Angel stepped back from the door and pulled out his cell phone. He started dialing a number.

Bobby stopped and watched his brother on the phone.

"Yes, I'm with Mr. Winston, on the top floor. We just noticed someone out in the parking area, messing with some cars. You need to get someone out there to check it out." He seemed to be listening for a long moment. "Look, Jessup Winston doesn't take kindly to his car being broken into. If that should be the case come morning, then you will have to answer for it." He hung up the phone and pulled Jerry back to stand behind some bushes next to the door. He turned and gave Bobby an aggravated stare.

Bobby followed the lead taken by his brothers, on the other side of the door. Moments later the doors opened and two security guards ran out, leaving the heavy wooden doors to close slowly under the control of the closure secured to them. Angel was at the door stopping it from latching as soon as the guards were far enough away for them to move safely into the building. Bobby and Jerry let Angel take the lead, walking through the lobby, to the security desk that blocked the path to the elevators.

Angel smiled at the young woman dressed in uniform behind the desk. "Good evening." He sounded genuinely taken by her. "And how are you doing this fine evening?" He glanced as the mail boxes behind the female security officer, and the box marked with Jessup Winston also displayed his room number.

"I'm doing quite well, thank you." The young lady smiled shyly. "What can I do for you?"

"We are with the fire marshal's office. We need to speak with Mr. Jessup Winston immediately." Angel pulled a thin wallet out of the breast pocket of his jacket and flashed it carelessly in front of the young girl before letting it snap back to the closed position and returning it to his pocket. "There is an emergency that we need to discuss with him."

The girl looked baffled for a moment. "Can I please see that identification again?" She seemed almost unsure of herself, and hesitated in asking for the ID.

Angel seemed to find more confidence as the girl's body language gave away the fact that she was probably fairly new at her job, and wasn't sure exactly what she should do. "Miss, we really don't have time for this. Mr. Jessup's life might very well be in danger. His business was blown up this evening, and we need to talk to him, to find out if he might know who would be out to harm him."

The girl opened her mouth as if to speak, but the phone on the desk rang at that moment. She held a finger up and answered the phone quickly. "Yes, sir, officer I can patch you through to Mr. Winston's line. May I relay to him what the call is about?" She listened for a long moment, and then looked up at Angel, Jerry and Bobby. "Yes sir, I'm sorry, I was not trying to pry, and it's just that he's normally asleep at this time. I'll patch you straight through."

Bobby watched it all play out before him. Angel continued to sweet talk the girl around corners, telling her she was very helpful, and pretty. By the end of it all, he had managed to get a visitor's keycard for accessing the elevator, and she had told him what apartment Jessup Winston resided in and then thanked him with a shy smile.

By the time Angel led them to the elevator, he had the girl's name and phone number in his pocket. All three were quiet, until they were in the safety of the elevator, listening to the rhythm and melodies of the remixed and slowed down versions songs no one ever really liked to start with coming over the speakers. Jerry looked at Angel. "Damn, how did you do that?"

"I always come prepared." Angel patted at his pocket, indicating the fake ID he'd flashed at the girl.

"No, man, here you are engaged, and you got her phone number?" Jerry cried out. "What the hell would Sofi say about something like that?"

"She ain't gonna say nothin' about it because no one is gonna tell her about it. It's not like I'm gonna call the girl." Angel gave Jerry a warning glare. "Don't even think about mentioning it to that crazy bitch, she'll turn it into all sorts of shit."

Bobby laughed. "Hell, she'll find out, she always does." He gave his brother a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You do give her reason to worry though. Hell, leaving for years, and then showin' up wanting to pick up where the two of you left off. She's bound to wonder what the hell you've been doing all that time, how many other women you been bangin and leavin'."

"Oh just shut the fuck up." Angel moaned.

Bobby watched as the numbered lights gauged their progress. "I forgot to grab my gas." He spoke quietly as they reached the sixth floor.

Angel andJerry both looked at Bobby. Jerry laughed, but Angel scowled. "Damn, you can do this without the fucking gas. You really think we could have gotten this far if you'd been carrying a can of gas?"

Bobby grinned, "Well, according to you, you could have talked your way in if you'd been carrying a rocket launcher." He joked as the number ten lit up. "Hell, it wouldn't have been so hard to convince that little girl that we were carrying a can of evidence up to show to Mr. Jessup Winston, now would it? How old was she anyway, eighteen maybe? What the hell are people putting a kid that young into a uniform and putting her in a position where she could get hurt by thugs like us? That's just fucking wrong."

Jerry gave Bobby a scowl identical to the one that Angel had been flashing at him. "Thugs like us? Hell, speak for yourself; I got me a wife and kids. I'm the furthest thing from a fucking thug."

"Don't you go sounding all high and mighty Jerr', you know as well as we do that you were the worst one out of all of us. You just hid it better than we did." Angel turned back to Jerry as he spoke.

"Ah, hell, I never got into the shit you two got into. I got my act together and ya' all know that." Jerry started to go into a long speech, but the elevator door opened on the fifteenth floor, silencing all three brothers.

"Hell, let's get to work." Bobby turned serious, losing the smile that had been plastered on his face most of the ride up. He pulled his gun out and walked out of the elevator,moving down the hall until he came to the apartment with the correct number on the door. He stared at the door for a long moment, listening to the silence in the hall, and the lack of sound inside the apartment. This was it. He had to find out where the hell his brother was, and this man was gonna talk. He'd find something that would scare the shit out of him, there had to be something that would push the man over the edge and force him to spill his guts, even if he couldn't use fire.

Angel and Jerry walked up behind Bobby. Both stood there for a long moment before Jerry finally spoke. "You gonna knock on the door, or you plan on bustin' it in with your x-ray vision?" He asked.

"Hell, I think the doctor at that hospital gave him some fucked up drugs or something." Angel laughed.

Bobby scowled, but didn't look back at either brother. He pulled his fist up and pounded hard on the wood before him, feeling the grain vibrate under his heavy blows. He stopped for a second, and then pounded again. "Mr. Jessup Winston." He called out. "We got some questions for you."

The door pulled open with a swift motion, and the man standing before them seemed surprised to see them. His hair was mussed slightly, and he was wearing a black silk robe.

Bobby's gun shot up directly to press into the man's forehead. "Back into the room slowly Mr. Winston, we wouldn't want you to trip and set the gun off." He managed to keep his voice quiet and steady. He stepped forward as the man stepped backwards. There were no lamps on in the apartment, but it was quite bright despite the lack of artificial lighting. Bobby felt Angel and Jerry following him in, and then the door was closed quietly, and the lock engaged quickly.

"What the hell do you want?" Winston's composure seemed to have recovered quickly. He didn't look or sound afraid. "You don't really want to use that, do you Mr. Mercer?" He kept his gaze steady on Bobby.

"That depends. Where the fuck is Macks, and what has he done with my brother?" Bobby asked with an icy tone in his voice that he hadn't been aware he was capable of until that moment. Sure, he was a bad ass, and he could sound like a bad ass, but his own voice scared him at that moment, and he wasn't quite sure where the pure coldness of it was coming from at that moment. He pointed to a leather and chrome chair. "Sit your ass down Mr. Winston; let's get to know each other." Bobby reached up and gave the man a shove towards the chair.

Winston sat down where Bobby wanted him to. He sighed, and crossed his arms at his chest. "Please, sit down." He smiled and motioned to another chair matching the one he was seated in.

Bobby smiled and shook his head. "No thank you Mr. Winston, what I gotta do, I gotta do standing up." He stood in front of the man while Angel moved to close the blinds covering the wall of nothing but window. Jerry moved to a lamp and waited until the blinds were in place before he turned on the lamp.

Jerry looked around the room, whistling softly. "Damn, you got one nice place here." He looked over at Winston. "How much do they ask for a place like this?"

"Jerry, shut the fuck up." Angel stepped over, standing next to Bobby. "Jessup Winston." He grinned at the man.

"Yeah, and I know who you are, Bobby, Jeremiah, and Angel Mercer." Winston looked at each as he spoke their names. "Now that we got the name game out of the way, why don't you put that gun down and tell me what the hell you're doing in my home?" He kept his voice steady.

"We want our brother, you ass. Now you tell us where the hell Macks has him, and you might make it through this night alive." Angel leaned over and looked at the man. "You sent your goons after our family; we are only repaying the favor here. So start talking." His voice sounded threatening.

Winston drew in a deep breath and looked at the gun aimed at his head. "You really think that thing scares me?"

"It should." Bobby pulled the gun to his right and took aim on a statue sitting on top of a table. He fired off one shot, shattering the ceramic to dust, and then pulled the gun back around to point to the man's head. "As you can see it is fully loaded." He growled. "Now let's do this the easiest way. Let's start from the beginning. I want to know what the hell started this. Did you all do this because he wanted to get his fucking hands on the kid? That don't sound like the way you work from what I hear Jessup. So there had to be something more to it than just that."

Jessup stared at the dust on the floor, and on the table. His eyes seemed to twitch slightly around the corners at the clump that remained in the center of the table where the base of the statue still set.

Bobby looked at the man and then followed his gaze to the mess he'd made of the man's precious piece of art. "What, you don't like losing your expensive crap?" He snapped back around to look at Jessup. "How about I take out a few more of your collection?" He looked around the room, finding more than enough targets to empty his gun on.

"Do you have any idea how long it is going to take to clean that up?" Jessup spoke in a quiet voice. "I have done nothing to you, and yet you come into my home and destroy my possessions, and make a horrendous mess." His face flushed a deep crimson as he turned back to look at Bobby. "That is bullshit! That entire wall will have to be replaced, and the carpet will need to be cleaned by professionals. That table will need refinished…"

Angel laughed at the words, "A mess?" He looked at Bobby. "He's trippin because you made a fuckin' mess?"

Bobby stared at Jessup for a long moment. "You have done nothing to us? What the hell do you call rollin' up on an apartment with innocent women and children, shooting up the place, and kidnapping a little boy?"

Jessup sighed, but there seemed to be irritation behind his eyes now, and that was more than Bobby had seen before. Bobby turned and took aim on another statue. The gun blast was quick, and the piece mimicked the previous victim, leaving the same mess spread out across several feet.

"I had nothing to do with that. Macks did that behind my back." Winston growled out the words.

"But you knew he was out for the kid. You were gonna help him get him, right?' Bobby turned back to the man. "You really think I believe that you weren't a part of what went on tonight? You think one restaurant is all I'm gonna want in return for what the fuck you did tonight?" Bobby shook his head, "I want my brother. You tell me where the hell Macks has him, and I might not burn any more buildings, or shoot any more statues." He nearly yelled the words.

"Look, you are a business man. Why the hell are you mixed in with scum like Adam Macks?" Angel asked the question with no warning.

Jessup Winston looked past Bobby and Angel, over to Jeremiah, "I'm a business man, and there was business involved." He spoke with a noticeable tremble to his voice while his stare hung on Jerry.

"The redevelopment project," Jerry nodded his head. "You were gonna try to blackmail me into letting you get your dirty hands in on it." He looked at Bobby, "Well, you were right about that."

"Hell, I wasn't gonna use the kid for that. I have my own way of working out deals. You might find that I can be an asset to your project Jeremiah." Winston smiled slyly.

"Mr. Mercer, to you," Jeremiah kept his tone even and cold.

Jessup Winston shook his head. "Look, the deal was, I get you to let me in on the project, and then, afterwards, Macks was gonna go after the kid, using my men if he needed to. He decided to come up with a whole new plan of action. He's got the kid, and if you want him back, you'll do what the fuck I tell you to do. You'll sign the papers, make me a partner, holding seventy percent of the company, and you will join my crew, with the other thirty percent in your pocket, all three of you. If not, then the kid is hitting the road for a trip, and he won't come back."


	38. Chapter 38

As always, thanks for reading and please review, let me know what you think :)

Still don't own and still no profit, it's just for fun...

* * *

**Chapter 38: Father**

Craig was sure the man who was supposed to be treating his head was not a real doctor. His first clue was the way his father begged him for something to help his own 'headache' before letting the man turn his attention to Craig. Craig's own head seemed to swimming in and out of dizzy spells, and if he didn't know better he could have sworn his brain was trying to bust out of his skull, that was how bad it hurt him. He found his mind wondering off into unknown thoughts, and each time he wondered off he found himself having to remember where he was when he came back to what small bit of reality he could grasp. It was getting worse with each passing minute. But in the moments that he was able to keep a half coherent thought he was able to reason that the man cleaning his head wasn't truly qualified for the task, he just carried a large bag full of drugs.

Adam stood behind him and watched as the man took a needle and syringe from his bag and started to prepare it. Craig shook his head ever so slightly and managed to moan out, "No." But the man ignored him before injecting the substance into his arm. That only made the sick dizziness worse. Craig could remember seeing what looked like a needle and thread coming towards him, and the feeling of the gash on the side of his head stinging and burning.

He found that if he stared at the wall he was able to ignore what he was feeling. He was able to ignore the pain, and fight off the urge to let his mind slip into a drugged state. The struggle seemed to go on forever, but eventually the drug pumping through him won out. It overtook him about the time his father's cell phone rang out with some sort of stupid ringtone that reminded the boy of the cartoons he used to watch when he was little.

He let his eyes slip close and his father's voice seemed to swim around the blackness. He was sure he heard the Mercer name, but the sound of it seemed to meld with the colors his mind was projecting in front of his closed eyes, the colors swimming and swirling around making strange patterns and echoing off his senses. His ears started to ring and that turned into the sound of trumpets. He felt his whole body start to catch fire. His eyes opened when a cold sensation pressed up against the side of his head, and knew that a bandage was being wrapped around to hold that cold in place on the side of his head. He could hear the man Adam referred to as Doc' saying something about keeping ice on his head, and then the man disappeared from his view.

Adam Macks appeared above him, with that sick smile on his face, and Craig knew that his luck had run out. It was going to start, and he could do nothing to stop it. His father was spinning above him, climbing onto the bed, straddling his chest, and planting his knees into his arms. He could feel the pillow under his head being adjusted, and something was added to raise his head enough to please the man. The directions Adam Macks spoke to him made no sense in his drugged state, but he had no choice but to try to do whatever the man was demanding from him. All he could really do was try to remember what had been expected of him when he was younger. He did feel the sting of his palm against his right cheek several times, apparently because he was doing something wrong, but whatever it was, he didn't know. He felt as if he were going to gag, and had to force the sensation back down into his gut.

He hated his father. He hated what he had to be when he was with his father, and at that moment, he hated his brothers for letting him end up where he was. He hated Bobby for letting it happen. The man kept telling him that he was safe with them, and that no one was ever going to do this to him again, but obviously that was wrong, it wasn't true. Where was Bobby right then? Why was he letting this happen to him, again? He wasn't even certain how he had gotten there. Perhaps it was the drugs burning through his body, or the words that Adam Macks was yelling at him, he wasn't sure, but his mind was spinning out the scene of his brothers handing him over to his father, leaving him to this fate, and he hated them all for it.

* * *

Jeremiah Mercer pulled his concealed gun out of his coat and took three steps across the room, putting Jessup Winston directly in front of him. He aimed his gun at the man's head, and just as he was about to pull the trigger, he let his aim slip just a fraction of an inch to his right, sinking the bullet into the back of the leather chair he was seated in.

Winston's face turned a sickly white as he turned his head just enough to see the puff of smoke that was wafting up and out of the bullet hole. "This chair cost three thousand dollars." The man swallowed hard, and though he was trying to hide his fear, his pale skin and the tremble in his voice was giving him away.

"You're fucking with my family, and my life you son of a bitch, and I'm getting tired of the shit that keeps coming at me. I'm just an average guy, tryin' to make something of myself, and you and your kind keep coming at me with the fucking bullshit!" Jeremiah spoke with anger to his voice that seemed to surprise even his own brothers.

Bobby looked at Angel and shrugged his shoulders. "Hell, looks like Jerr' finally remembered where the hell he's from." He commented.

"Oh, I ain't ever forgotten, I was just tryin' to get my life past that shit. But roaches keep comin' at me, wanting to drag me and mine down. I ain't gonna take it no more." Jerry stepped closer to Winston. "How much is that fancy silver looking liquor cabinet over there worth?" He held his gun up to take aim on the large cabinet that appeared to be comprised of chrome and crystal. "You know, my big brother here was all set to light your ass on fire. We thought we'd be able to reason with you, seeing as how you are such a big business man. Hell, all you want to do is drop more bullshit at our feet, tellin' us we gotta do what the fuck you say in order to get our baby brother back? Well, hell, we'll just let Bobby here have his little fire fest, and we'll watch you kick and scream and run around here in your big ole fancy apartment, cause we ain't stupid enough to think that Macks will give our brother up that fucking easy, and I sure as hell ain't gonna sign shit with you, you mother fucker. Since Bobby didn't bring his gasoline, it's very kind of you to provide something flammable for him to get the job done." He pulled the trigger and let the gun blast through the cabinet, shattering the crystal, and popping the doors open. "You know Bobby, alcohol burns quite well." He looked at Bobby, a coldness etched across his features that matched the cold that was burning deep in Bobby's chest.

Bobby didn't hesitate, after the long outburst from Jerry, he was certain this was gonna work. Jessup Winston already looked scared shitless. He walked over to the liquor cabinet and started pulling out bottles of whisky and vodka. "Hell, yeah, this is good shit. Expensive shit." Bobby glanced back at the man in the thin silk robe. "You like the expensive shit, don't you Mr. Winston? You like the high dollar, high grade shit that slides down nice and smooth, and the burn don't hit you until two shots later, but you're already numb enough by then not to notice." He laughed, but it sounded as if there were no emotion behind it. He noticed a mason jar in the back, and reached for it as Angel moved to his side to help grab the bottles.

Bobby let Angel take the tall bottles he'd been holding, and he picked up the jar. He laughed heartily while Angel opened a bottle of whiskey and took a long swig. "Hell, look at what we got here, is this moonshine?" He turned and looked at Jessup Winston while he unscrewed the lid and took a whiff of the contents. "Shit, this is good stuff." He took a small sip and then let Angel try it. "I bet it burns damn good too." He took the jar back from Angel and walked casually over to stand next to Jerry, directly in front of Jessup Winston, who was visibly shaking now.

"You wouldn't do that. You wouldn't burn me alive." Jessup barely got the words out.

Bobby let Jerry take a sip of the moonshine, and laughed when the man winced at the burning as the liquid fire hit his stomach. "Damn." Jerry choked out.

Angel joined Bobby on his other side, all three looking down at the man who had just moments ago sounded so confident, and had tried to be threatening, but now was cowering in his chair.

Bobby noticed the puddle forming under the man and the wet spot growing on his fancy silk robe. He laughed and nodded his head. "You see, guys, people really get the piss scared out of them when you start to mention fire, and burning." He glanced from Jerry to Angel, and then back down to Winston. "Guess it's a good thing that chair has to be replaced, ain't it Mr. Winston. I mean, hell, you just pissed all over that fine leather, and of course, once your charred remains are removed from it, it ain't gonna be worth a plug nickel." He reached out with the jar and started pouring the moonshine on the man's lap, working his way up his chest, and then dumping the last of it over his head. He let the jar fall to the floor and shatter into shards at Winston's bare feet.

"You can't do this. This is murder." Winston cried out, his voice sounding more like a scared woman than a man.

"Oh come on bitch, your men had no problem shooting bullets at us tonight and ending the life of a sixteen year old kid. That's fucking murder. This is what we call justice." Angel held out a bottle of the whiskey and poured it around the man's lap and the chair, while Bobby pulled his book of matches out of his pocket.

Jeremiah reached over and grabbed a bottle out of Angel's hands and started pouring some of the alcohol himself. "Hell, I forgot how much fun this could be." He laughed while he emptied the bottle. The scent of alcohol was growing stronger by the second.

Angel laughed as well. "You know, once his ass has been lit, we can take turns with the vodka, to see if we can chuck the bottles into the flames and watch the little explosions." He looked at Jerry.

All were quiet for a long moment, with only the sound of Jessup Winston's fearful wheezing resounding from the chair.

Bobby lit the match and held the flame up in front of his face as he leaned over towards the man. "You know, you can still save your ass, just tell me where the fuck my baby brother is."

"Okay, okay. Macks has him in a warehouse just outside of the city, an old business of Sweet's, he bought it under a phony name." Winston spoke quickly, his voice practically squeaking at times. "Highland Park Plastics," He kept his gaze fixed on the flame separating his face from Bobby's. "Damn, put that thing out!" He cried out.

"You said something about a fucking road trip." Angel spoke up.

"Macks is gonna move him, anytime now, to a safer place. I don't know where, but he seems to think it will be out of your fucking reach." He glanced up at Angel, but his eyes darted back to the match which was quickly burning down towards Bobby's fingers. He sucked in a deep breath and blew the flame out, probably mostly on instinct.

Bobby laughed and pulled another match out of the book. "You got more songs you want to sing for me bitch?" He struck the new match and held it to the mostly full book in his hand, the sulfur tips catching instantly under the flame, each with its own distinct hissing sound.

"Man, that's all I know." Winston cried out, trying to blow out the flames engulfing the match book, but only seeming to speed along the burning.

"You got people on your payroll that can make it possible for you to blackmail my brother here. Give me names, song bird." Bobby motioned slightly towards Jerry as he spoke. "I want to know who the fuck is working with you."

Winston drew in a shaky breath. "A cop, Higgins, he's been keeping us informed with who on the department we can and can't trust. He's been watching you, from a distance; hell that other cop won't let him get too close. There's a guy on the zoning board, Nicholas Peters, he was supposed to draw up the papers for you to sign, and he was going to shut you down if you didn't work with us." He glanced at Jerry, and then returned his stare to the flames, the match book was nearly completely engulfed, and he knew Bobby would drop it at any moment. "Some guy from the school, name is Jordan, Macks has pictures of him in some not so innocent positions with kids." He cried out. "I swear; I'm telling you the fucking truth, get that fire away from me!" He nearly screamed.

Bobby stood up, his blood boiling harder now than it had been before. "Okay, Mr. Winston. This is what the fuck we're gonna do. We're taking a ride, and you are going to show us how to get to this place. If our brother is there, then you're free to go. If he's not, your scrawny little chicken ass is gonna be roasted." Bobby blew out the matches and dropped the still smoldering, charred remains onto the marble floor at his feet. "Let's go. There's a back way down from here, ain't there?" He reached down, grabbed the man's arm and jerked him to his feet.

"You could at least let me get dressed." Jessup breathed a sigh of relief, finding some normalcy for his own voice.

"Fuck, why would we do that? That skimpy little piece of silk you got wrapped around you is already primed for the fireworks show, besides, you look so damn sexy, and wouldn't you want to show that off for the nice little thing in your lobby?" Angel laughed as he grabbed hold of Jessup's left arm, leaving Bobby to hold onto the man's right arm.

"Oh hell no, you can't drag me through the lobby wearing this!" Jessup cried out. "I've got a reputation to keep up!"

"Then you'd better be showing us the back way out of here sweetheart." Bobby spoke cheerfully while they moved towards the door.

"Okay, the stairwell is next to the elevator!" Winston cried out, apparently aware that begging wasn't going to do him any good.

The Mercers escorted Jessup Winston down to the emergency exit that emptied out into the street. The man moved quickly in the cold, not having to be prodded to keep up as they made their way down the street to where the car was parked.

As Bobby drove he could feel his gut twisting, and his heard pounding hard. He was going to have some loose ends to tie up in just a very short time. Mr. Jordan was going to be one of them, and the so called police officer, Higgins. That guy Winston had mentioned form the zoning board. Those men weren't going to make it out of this alive, just as he was sure he was going to end up having to kill Jessup Winston before it was all over and done with. They had all been fucking with his family, and it was time the fucking with the Mercers shit stopped.

But he knew where Craig was now, and just as he'd said, he was going to get to him before sunrise. He couldn't believe they were getting that close to getting his brother back home where he belonged. He just prayed that the son of a bitch who liked to claim to be his father hadn't done anything to him that would force him to revert back to the withdrawn little kid he'd been since their mother's murder. He had just started to come out of his shell, just started to trust them, and he knew he'd let the kid down. He knew he'd made the wrong choices, but he had been trying to keep his family safe. Would Craig understand that? Would he still trust him, and believe how much his family loved him and wanted him to be a part of them? Or would he be right back to holding everything in and keeping it bottled up?

Bobby Mercer swore on his mother's grave at that moment that he would tear Adam Macks apart little by little, ripping out his heart with his own bare hands if he'd so much as touched the boy that was quickly becoming less of a brother to him, and more like a son. Hell, he'd always been more of a father to him than Macks ever was. Macks wasn't a father, he was a sick fucker. He had no concept of what a father was supposed to be, but Bobby did.

Hell, he'd felt more parental than brotherly towards the kid from the very start. From the first day Evelyn Mercer had brought him home he'd felt as if he had to provide for him, and keep him safe, despite what his mother and brothers had tried to tell him. He may have gone about it the wrong way at the start, and it had taken him seven fucking years to figure it out, but he knew deep down inside that he was the kid's father, not Adam Macks, and he was going to make sure Craig knew it too, somehow.


	39. Chapter 39

Kind of short, but let me know your thoughts :) Thanks for reading!

Legal statement still counts.

* * *

**Chapter 39: Road Trip**

Craig wasn't sure at what point his father left him alone in the dark. He didn't remember it happening, but he was thankful when he came around enough to know that he was no longer being forced to please the man. His heart was aching for Bobby, but at the same time he hated the man. He wanted to get up and run, but he had no idea where he was, not really, he had no place to run to, and the way his body was feeling he couldn't run more than a step before falling on his face. He was able to move his arms and legs freely, so he wasn't tied down, but his head was still spinning on him, even in the dark.

The ability to see sound in the form of colors and hear colors in the form of sound was slowly diminishing, and that was nothing that he wanted to experience again, though he had to admit, he had been mostly unaware of what his father had forced him to do once the drug peddler he called Doc' had left. He owed that little luxury to the drug that had been shot into him.

He did manage to sit up, despite the sensation that he was tilting to his left, off balance, and spinning in the dark room. He listened for any sounds that might be coming from any other area of where ever the hell he was right then. From time to time he could hear voices, but they sounded faint, and far away. His body felt weak and exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to lie back in the bed and let himself sleep, but he knew that wasn't the wisest thing to do. His head was still throbbing, and he still felt the dizzy sensation. He was sure he needed to stay awake.

As he sat there, in the dark, his mind seemed to slip back to the moments in the closet, before the door had opened. He could feel the spiders, and the roaches crawling across his skin, and the feeling of not being able to control what was happening to him swelled up around him with the swarm of bugs. He started scratching at his arms, digging as hard as his weak fingers could manage. He could remember the time when he'd been left in a closet for days, the bugs clinging to him, itching at him, making him feel dirty. It was one of those memories that he'd sketched out in detail in one of his sketch pads, he was sure of that. A memory that he'd long buried, and hadn't dwelled on, because his mother, his adoptive mother had taken his memories and had kept them safe for him.

The revelation of the closet memory combined with the time he'd been forced to spend with his father, in the very bed he was sitting in now, seemed to be chipping away of the protective walls his sketching had built up in his subconscious over the years. The walls that held all of his nightmares inside, keeping them from him, were starting to crumble, and the things his father had done to him, though he had known all along what they were, were coming to him in vivid detail, right down to the words he'd spoken to him his entire life. He was worthless, no one wanted him. No one cared about him. He screwed up too much, he couldn't do anything right.

It all seemed to blend in with his father's voice yelling at him while he'd been in that drug induced state. The Mercers weren't his family, Adam Macks was the only family that he had, and he needed to learn to live with that. His so called brothers didn't want him. They'd been playing the game, that's all. Leading him on, and making him think they cared, but when it came right down do it, they had let him go, on purpose, not caring what was going to happen to him. They wouldn't come for him this time, they knew what he was, and they knew that he deserved everything that his father gave him, from the beatings, to the closets, to all of the other shit that would be forced on him. He had to remember how to be obedient, and quiet, and show a desire to make his father, and anyone else that paid enough money happy and pleased. He was nothing more than an object, and if he didn't behave appropriately, he'd suffer for it. He could be replaced, and he could be gotten rid of so easily because no one would ever miss him. If no one cares about you, then no one can miss you.

Craig's mind ran it all around in confusing circles but he knew what he was thinking, and how he was feeling. The confusion only made it that much more intense to him in the spinning blackness that he was trapped in at that moment.

He was sure he heard his father's voice moving closer, and it didn't sound very happy. He quickly dropped himself back in the bed, and immediately regretted the fast movement. The pounding in his head intensified, and the colors started to return, swirling and making noises in his brain, turning the spinning sensation into bright yellow and red flashes with blue patterns intertwining around purple and greeen.

The door opened hard, swinging back and banging against the cement block wall, moving the different patterns around in his head at a quicker rate, forming odd circles and curly loops all sliding around the different hues . Craig looked over, and could barely make out the shadowy figure of a man moving towards him, but it didn't look like his father, it was the wrong shape and build. Somewhere in his brain recognition did come though, he did know this man, he just couldn't place who he was or where he'd seen him.

He couldn't struggle against the hands as they grabbed his wrists and started binding them together with some kind of rope, the ridges of the woven line cutting hard into the leftover discoloration from the last time he'd been tied. He tried to beg whoever it was tying him to please stop, but he couldn't get his voice to work. He wanted to tell this man that he would listen, he would do what he was told, he didn't have to be tied, but his lips barely moved, and no sound came out.

He watched as the man reached towards him with something else in his hand. His blurred vision couldn't make out the blindfold until it was being tied around his eyes. It seemed to rip into the gash in his head, and he cried out from the pain. His cry got him smacked across the face. He wasn't struggling; it wasn't as if he could struggle, he didn't understand why he had to be hit. He felt a gag being pushed into his mouth, and then tied into place. As frightening as it was, it was nowhere as bad as it had been with Sweet. There was no tape, it was all rags and rope, and for some reason that all seemed safer and less threatening to him, though he wasn't sure why.

He felt the pillow being pulled out from under his head, and moments later the pillowcase was slid over his head, and tied into place with a something around his throat. He hated that feeling, but apparently someone didn't want his face seen by someone, which meant that he was being moved out of that room, and that didn't make him feel any more at ease at that moment. Where was he being taken? What else was about to happen to him? Was his father going to let other men have their way with him, turn him into nothing more than a party favor to be fondled and passed around? He felt his body starting to shiver as he was lifted off of the bed, arms sliding under his shoulders and wrapping around his chest. Whoever was holding onto him didn't seem very strong, they seemed weak.

He was dragged across the floor and the carpet under his bare feet changed to the wood flooring of the hallway. He felt cement, and then he felt more carpet. They stopped on the carpet, but he wasn't dropped, or set down. He felt another set of hands grabbing his feet and they were lifted a few inches before being set back down into what felt like canvas. He was then eased down to his knees, and both sets of hand leaned him forward. He was sure he heard his father's voice, telling him to stay still, in that bent over position. "Zip him up, leave enough open that he can breathe, and put him in back of the van. You did get that spare tire out of the way, didn't you?"

The sound of a heavy zipper filled the air around the boy, and he felt as if the rest of the world was closed off from him. The voices around him turned muffled, and distant. He felt at the material below him and around him, and was sure that he had just been stuffed into some kind of a duffle bag, similar to the one that Jack carried his belongings in. He felt panic fill him, he would run out of air in that bag. It was canvas, and it was water and air tight. He knew that. Then he felt hands grabbing him and he was being lifted, the pressure of only the canvas bag to hold him seemed to concentrate on his knees and his head. The sensation of floating though the air made the sick feeling in his stomach churn and his head whirled wildly. He heard the heavy metal sound of boots hitting steel stairs, and could tell they were rising up out of whatever basement they had been in. Several times he felt his knees swinging into the sharp edges of the steps, and couldn't cry out from the pain.

As they reached the top, the familiar sound of icy wind blowing around managed to penetrate the thick canvas that trapped him. He could feel his body swinging with each step that was taken, and after several more seconds he was being lifted even higher off the ground and dropped into what felt like a hard metal hole. He was turned onto his right side, and positioned in what felt like a giant metal donut. He couldn't feel enough through the canvas to know exactly where he was, but he heard metal clanking against metal, and his mind flashed a picture of the spare tire well in the trunk of his mother's car, that's what it felt like.

Craig's senses were stifled but he was sure he could hear his father's voice moving about, sometimes closer, sometimes further away. At one point he seemed to be yelling angrily at the other man.

The other man seemed to wait several seconds before mumbling harsh words under his breath in a tone that was not pleasant.

The air inside the canvas cocoon was getting harder to suck in. He was going to die of suffocation, he knew it. His mind was traveling back to a time when he was very small, when his father would go into one of his rages and drag him to the bath tub. The feeling of not being able to breath, and sucking water down into his lungs overwhelmed him as his already bewildered state seemed to intensify. He felt panic building, and tried to cry out in desperation. His father didn't want him dead, he was sure of that, or at least he prayed that he was sure.

"I told you to leave that open enough that he could breathe you idiot!" Adam Mack's voice came through the canvas strong and harsh. Moments later Craig heard the short sound of the zipper being opened just enough to allow air into the bag.

What seemed to Craig like the lid of a coffin banged closed in his ear and he felt as if he were being trapped in a tomb. The weight above him increased, pressing down on him, holding him in place and preventing him from moving. The sounds of car doors, and then an engine, and then the sensation of moving, and cold air whistling through holes all around him all seemed to meld together into colors again, and his mind was quickly slipping back into the same state as it had been in just a short time before, when the drug was surging through him. Apparently the drug hadn't worn off like he'd thought. Reality was slipping away, and he was partially thankful for that.

He preferred not knowing what was happening to him at that moment, though with the loss of reality was coming the other side of the reality, the not so real. The feeling of the bugs crawling over him, the memories of the things that his father had done to him when he was younger, the fear, and the yearning for someone to care about him.

His psyche was revolving about in all directions at once, as if he were trapped on one of those carnival rides that spin you around too fast to see anything clearly, but your eyes managed to catch glimpses of one or two things as they pass. A picture would flash in his mind for a millisecond before a new one would take its place. His real mother, and then Evelyn Mercer, and then his father, and then Bobby, and then Jerry, and then a dog from sometime in the past, and then his father, and then Bobby, and then blood, and then Jack…..

It went on and on and seemed endless, as the swirling colors surrounded each image, and his mind felt as if it were going to explode.

His last thoughts before he slipped completely into the confusion of his mind was that he wanted to go home, wanted to be safe, with his mother, and he wanted to forget everything bad that had ever happened to him in his entire life. If his mother were alive, she could make it all go away, she could make the sick feeling in his gut disappear and she wouldn't let his father hurt him. Bobby didn't want him, his brothers were getting tired of him, and they had let Adam take him back, he didn't understand what he'd done to deserve it, why no one wanted him, except for the one man that wanted to hurt him. The worm hole that his mind fell into was full of color and numbness, and it brought relief, peace, and unknowing, and he embraced it and let it fall over him like a warm blanket.


	40. Chapter 40

As always thanks for reading :)  and let me know your thoughts please?

Legal statement still counts for this one......

* * *

**Chapter 40: Too Late**

Bobby stepped back from the trunk of his new Cutlass and smiled at the sight of Jessup Winston stuffed all nice and cozy inside the tight space, his black silk robe still smelling strongly of whiskey and moonshine, barely covering the critical areas of his body. His hands were bound behind his back and Jerry had stuffed his mouth with a gag. The man looked up at them, and tried to speak through the gag, but only succeeded in making muted noises. His eyes grew wide when Bobby smiled and reached up to slam the trunk lid.

Yeah, Bobby Mercer liked seeing the fear in the man's eyes. He had warned him before sticking him inside the convenient storage compartment that if his brother wasn't at this warehouse that he wasn't long for this earth upon his return. The man had protested and told him that Macks had been planning on moving the kid, and that he had no way of knowing if he was actually there or not. Bobby didn't care. If he didn't walk out of the place with Craig, this man was going to give new meaning to the term 'flamer'. He was dead set on that.

Angel sighed and looked past the car to the faint lights across the field. The sound of rap music drifted across the open space and it was easy to tell it was cranked up loud in the warehouse, though it seemed faint from that distance, "Fucking party." He turned and looked at Bobby. "That's rap music, that's a teenager party in there, not something that Macks would be tossin' about."

"Unless he's still trying to keep the teenagers happy, keep them under his thumb. He's probably got them partyin' upstairs, and is keeping Craig downstairs. Winston said there was a basement apartment underneath that bitch, big rooms, lots of space and concrete separating him from the noise." Jerry commented as he turned and looked at the trunk of the car. "You think we should give him a coat or a blanket or some shit?"

Angel gave Jerry a scowl and shook his head. "Let him freeze his balls off out here, if we don't find Craig in there he'll warm up fast enough, trust me."

"Well let's stop debating the shit and go find out for ourselves if Craig is in there." Bobby checked his gun and stuck in under his coat before reaching down and grabbing the gas can next to his feet. He started walking across the field in the direction of the back side of the warehouse.

Jerry and Angel walked with him, both carrying a gas can, all three keeping themselves low when possible, but not too concerned about being spotted from the back of the building at night, though Jerry did point out that Bobby and Angel's black dress would give them away on the white snow pack beneath their feet.

"Jeremiah, must you always look for the negative in every situation?" Angel asked quietly as they walked.

"I'm not looking for the negative; I'm just pointing out the factors that could possibly get our asses killed." Jerry gave Angel a pointed look. "Besides, that's what I was always good at, remember? I'd point out the flaws in the plans so that we wouldn't get shot full of holes."

"Difference is, you'd come up with that shit before we were in the middle of carrying out our plans, Jerr'.  And then half way through the plan you'd think of something else and we'd have to wing it." Bobby grinned and looked at Jerry. "You must be slipping little brother, because I'm pretty sure this ain't the appropriate time to point out the shit that's gonna get us killed. Let's just roll with what the hell we got and wing it."

"We did not always have to wing it, you just liked changing up the plan with no warning. There you go, wanting to wing it." Jerry sounded irritated. "Why the hell do we always wing it Bobby? We can come up with some damn good plans; there ain't any sense in always having to wing it. You gonna want to wing it when we start on that redevelopment project? 'Cause if you try that, we'll end up shut down for sure."

"Damn, quit your bitchin'. The way things look; you probably won't ever get that fuckin' project off the ground. There's bad luck in that shit, I'm tellin' ya." Angel shook his head.

"Ain't no bad luck, it's just the stupid shit ass holes like Sweet and Winston keep throwing out there in the way." Jerry argued.

"Alright girls, should we stop here and let the two of you bitch slap at each other a few times?" Bobby stopped walking and looked at both of his brothers. "We ain't got time for this shit. We need to get serious here. I would have done better to bring Jackie with me and let him beat on people with that fucking tube hanging out of his chest." Bobby kept his voice quiet, though is voice sounded tense. "We need to get our shit together and get in there and get Craig. I don't care what the hell is going on in there, I'll deal with it, but we need to get to that kid before that sick son of a bitch touches him, or moves him, and we lose him. If Macks manages to move him from this place, we've lost him, do either of you get that at all?"

Angel and Jerry both stopped and turned their attention to the eldest of the three. "Yeah, man we know that." Angel nodded his head.

Jerry imitated Angel's actions. "We always do this shit when we're worked up, Bobby. You know that." He reminded. "Didn't seem to bother you much earlier, and we were goin' at it pretty good, in fact you were joining in with us."

"Yeah, well, we weren't this close to the kid. We need to keep our minds sharp, and quick. No more bullshittin'." Bobby started walking again. Angel and Jerry gave each other a long stare before following the man.

As they neared the rear of the warehouse the rap music seemed to intensify in volume so much that it seemed the metal sheeting forming the walls vibrated with each beat. Bobby kept himself low, moving in closer to look through cracks in the rusted metal, he could see several boys, teenagers, sitting around a table drinking beer, and it looked as if they were passing a joint around. There was a barrel sitting near them with a fire burning hot. Bobby didn't look back at his brothers, but he held his right hand up and motioned to the left. He glanced over long enough to see Angel moving in that direction. He then looked back into the crack and used his hand to motion to the right. He could barely hear the snow crunching under Jerry's boots as he moved in the direction Bobby had pointed. He wasn't worried about the boys hearing anything, they were stoned, and the music was so loud that from inside the structure they wouldn't have known if a tornado was passing above them.

Bobby looked at the metal wall, and the lose sheets around him. He felt along each groove, and every gap, until he found some that were lose enough that they could be pulled away from the beams they'd once been bolted securely to. He didn't have to pry very hard for the rusty holes encircling the bolts to crumble away and give enough to lift the sheets of metal. He slid through, finding himself behind some metal barrels and wooden crates on the side wall. He slid his gas can in carefully and opened the nozzle. He peaked over the top of one of the barrels, and checked out the half open doors as each end of the building. He could see a brother peering though each one, mostly hidden in the dark, but as Jerry had pointed out earlier, Angel's dark clothes did stand out against the snow. He just wouldn't give Jerry the satisfaction of knowing Bobby agreed with him.

He waited until he was certain both brothers could see him before he started pouring the gas out, working his way around the perimeter of the building, keeping the liquid next to the walls. Angel moved in, and worked his way around his end, careful to say quiet, though inside, the shadows seemed to help hide his presence. Jeremiah mimicked their moves, covering the other end.

Bobby moved closer to the center of the warehouse, just behind the group of boys who still hadn't noticed they had company. He set his can down next to him and waited while Jerry and Angel both stood themselves in front of the doors, blocking any exit from the warehouse. He smiled and pulled out his other book of matches. Yep, he loved gas stations. He held the book in his hand so it would be there when he was ready before pulling his gun out and aiming it straight at the stereo that was sitting on the table. He grinned wide as he fired off the bullet.

Inside the steel structure the sound of the gun blast seemed to be magnified one hundred times. The bullet struck the stereo, lifting it off of the table and back towards a large support beam in the middle of the little circle of junk furniture that had been built around the fire barrel. The plastic case of the stereo seemed to explode when it impacted the steel beam, and the silence that filled the building was deafening. The teenage boys, in their intoxicated state fell silent, staring at the odd phenomena that had taken place in front of them. One of the boys muttered something about a ghost.

"You stupid shit, that wasn't no ghost that was a gun!" Another boy jumped to his feet, as if he was ready to run, but his eyes fell on Bobby. He turned in an effort to climb over the back of the couch he'd been sitting it, and found Jerry standing there smiling at him. He then turned to his left, pushed his way past two of the boys and the table, and bolted towards in the other direction, towards the door where Angel stood; apparently thinking he could get past the man. As he ran into Angel's range, the man merely held his splinted arm out and swung it into the teen's stomach, putting him on the ground instantly.

Bobby held his gun up and waved it to get the attention of the other boys, who seemed to be in a daze at that moment. "Hello boys. You ready for a real fucking party?" He yelled out as he reached for the gas can and picked it up. He stepped quickly across the dirt floor, closing the distance between him the three teenagers. None of the boys moved, none of them made a sound. They all looked like little kids who had shit their pants. "We're gonna have a real fucking grown up party!"

"Get the fuck up!" Angel reached down and grabbed the boy at his feet who was still gasping to catch his breath, hauling him up to his feet and giving him a hard shove ahead of him. "Walk child. I won't tell you again." He picked up his own gas can and followed the boy.

"What the hell is that smell?" One of the older boys asked quietly.

"That smell is gasoline. It's a fuel most people put into their cars. You should be quite familiar with the substance. It burns real nice." Bobby held his can up as if to show it off, then set it down and held up the book of matches. "And it's all over this fucking place."

Jerry moved in on the gang members they had managed to snare in their little circle, "What the fuck ya' all doing out here this time of night? Don't any of you have Mommies waiting at home for ya' all?" He sounded more parental than threatening, and Bobby turned to give him a look of loathing.

"They don't care about their Mamas, or whether or not they cause them any kind of pain." Angel spoke with a tense pitch. "If they cared about their Mamas, they wouldn't be putting their little punk asses in a position to get themselves killed, now would they?"

"What the fuck you talking about, we're just having some fun here." One of the boys cried out, fear carved into his face.

"Fun," Bobby's voice turned ominous at the sound of the boy's description of what they had been doing. "You call helping a sick fucker kidnap a little kid fun?" He yelled nearly. "Where the fuck is Macks?"

The teenagers looked truly confused by the man's words. "Man, we don't know what the hell you're talking about." The boy who had said something about a ghost spoke up.

"Don't bullshit me kid, I don't care how young you are, you ain't as young as my brother, and I don't give a fuck how tore up your mother will be if you're found dead somewhere. Now where the fuck is Macks?" Bobby yelled as he pulled his gun back up to aim it at the teen's head.

The boy's eyes grew wide as saucers. "He left, an hour ago." He stared at the gun aimed at him. "He left us here, said we were on our own, that he wasn't coming back." His voice trembled as he spoke.

"Did he take our brother with him?" Angel asked quickly.

"We don't know what you're talking about." The boy that had tried to run spoke up, finally able to find enough lung capacity to speak. "Look I know who you are. You're the Mercers, aren't you?"

Bobby turned to the other boy, who was still gasping for air. "You know who we are because you punks have been trying to blow our asses up and you helped Macks steal a fourteen year old kid." He let his gun swing around to this new target. The boy seemed more willing to talk.

"We did some of the shit he told us, but man, we don't know anything about kidnapping no one." The boy cried out. "We knew there was more goin' down than what they were tellin', but there were only a few of the older boys that knew details, they wouldn't tell us shit."

"You boys have been here all night?" Jerry asked quickly.

"Most of it, yeah, and there's been some heavy shit goin' down, but we were left out of it." The boy looked at Jerry. "Man, he made us come up here and told us to wait, and start the party, so we did. Then there were people who came in and out, and then Jordan showed up and helped the boss pack his bags and carry them up from below and put them into the back of his van they left. The boss said we were on our own, that he wasn't coming back that it was over." The boy spoke the words quickly as Bobby took long, quick strides, until his gun barrel came to rest on the boy's forehead, pressing hard. "I swear to God, we were just having one last big party before we tried to call someone to come and get us!" The boy nearly screamed the words.

"Jerry, go look," Bobby hissed the words, but didn't take his eyes off the terrified boy in front of him. He could see Jerry out of the corner of his eye as the man moved to the stairs and made his way below.

"He didn't have a kid with him? Craig Mercer?" Bobby asked the boy, still not believing the words, but studying his eyes for any sign that he was lying to him. He'd fucked up once with the kid, Terry, he wasn't about to fuck up again.

"No, man, we didn't see him. We wouldn't have helped with something like that. We were just out for a little fun, and some money, that's all!" The fear behind the boy's eyes looked genuine. "He said that we were just messing with you for the fun of it, that you screwed him out of an important deal and he just wanted to scare you. Hell, we weren't even there." He motioned to the other boys in their circle.

Bobby felt his heart sinking. He felt his gut twisting up on him, and he thought for a few seconds that tears were going to start running. The kid was being honest with him, he was sure of it, and if he hadn't seen Craig, then there was no telling where the hell Macks had him. He may never have had him there, at that warehouse at all. The anger that kept rising and falling inside of him was starting to build in intensity again. He'd been so sure that he was going to find his little brother, and get him home and be able to keep him safe, but he wasn't there. He knew it before Jerry ever returned to announce that the basement apartment was empty, that it looked as if it had been cleaned out, and no one was there.

Bobby could feel the need to hurt someone building inside his gut. His anger was growing, and he'd never been good at holding in his anger. He needed to hit someone. He needed to draw blood, and hit until the anger turned to bloody, achy, cracked knuckles. He wouldn't be able to get rid of this kind of anger by burning the building, he needed to hurt someone that was responsible for him losing the trail of his little brother, and that someone was in the trunk of his car at that moment. He pulled his gun down from the face of the child in front of him, but kept his stone cold stare fixed to him.

"You listen to me, you stupid shit. You and all your little buddies get your coats on and get the hell out of here, now." He spoke through his grinding teeth.

"Man, we need to call for a ride. It's too cold out there to walk." One of the other gang members spoke up.

"You boys get your asses out of this fucking building, or you will not have to worry about the cold. " Angel started pouring more of his gasoline around the dirt floor, while Jerry moved over to the office area, dispersing the last of the gas from his can on the walls and wooden planks leading through the doors.

Bobby watched as the boys started moving, slowly, gathering up coats and pulling into them. A couple of the teens had hats. "Hurry the fuck up, I won't give any of you another chance." He started pouring his gasoline over the couch and mattress in front of him, making sure to keep enough in the bottom for what he was going to need to ensure Winston burned good and hot. "And just for the record, I know who the fuck you juvenile delinquents are and you will be getting a visit from a very good friend of mine by the name of Detective Green with the Detroit police department. It would do you all a damn bit of good to be honest with him, or you'll all have to deal with me!" He yelled at the boys as they picked up their pace and were soon running out the door at the front of the warehouse.

Bobby held up his matches and struck the book. He let it catch well before tossing into the gas soaked couch. He stood and watched as the flames erupted before him. He heard Jerry and Angel both calling for him to hurry the hell up, but he let the heat of the fire overtake him for a moment, while he tried to decide what the hell he could do to Jessup Winston that would make the man suffer more than he was suffering at that moment, and he couldn't think of anything. He drew in a deep breath and followed his brothers out the door, coming to the conclusion that he was simply going to have to settle for something long and drawn out that would make the man's suffering last for as long as possible.


	41. Chapter 41

Thanks for the reviews from all, I appreciate each and every one, even if I don't answer all of them :) Thanks for reading, and keep letting me know what you think!

Legal stuff still counts.

* * *

**Chapter 41: Hell**

Craig felt as if his legs and arms were going to twist out of their sockets. The cramping was intense, and there was no room for him to stretch his aching muscles in any directly. He felt sweat pouring off of his body, which felt as if it were going boil over. He could feel the cold surrounding him, but in the canvas the air was moist and hot and he felt as if he couldn't breathe.

He had no idea how long his mind had been drifting off into the unknown, and he wasn't aware of when it had returned to reality, it just seemed that he had been cramped up in that canvas, trapped in what could only be the back compartment of a car or van for as long as his mind could remember.

His mind screamed out for his mother, for Evelyn. He had heard her voice when he was with Sweet, he'd felt her comfort, and although he'd known it wasn't real, he was screaming out in his mind for her to return, and take away the fear and the pain. It felt as if he'd been trapped in the tight confines for hours. He could feel the road humming under him, and whenever a bump or pothole jumped under the wheels, it knocked him hard, bruising different parts of his body. The canvas that enveloped him provided no cushioning for him; it only seemed to intensify the pressure of the cold steel surrounding him. He could tell by the pitch of the humming from the tires when the vehicle picked up speed, and when it seemed to be in slower traffic, stopping and then moving on, stopping again. A fear grew deep within him when he realized after a while that the humming was coming fast and high pitched, and it had been like that for a long time. They were on a freeway, driving fast, and they weren't slowing down. He could feel Detroit slipping further away, and the numbness grew inside of him grew as he came to the realization that he was never going home again. His brothers had really given him up to his father….

* * *

Bobby Mercer ran across the field, his gas can still in his hands as he rapidly shortened the distance that separated him from the man in the trunk of his car. The man that he was going to make suffer, and feel as much pain as possible. He reached the car ahead of Jerry and Angel, and had the trunk open before they joined him. He pulled the gag from Winston's mouth, rolled him untl his hands were in view and pulled on the rope tying them, removing iit and tossing it to the ground as his brothers came to a halt close to him.

"Bobby, he might know something man, you might want to try asking more questions." Jerry spoke quickly.

"Shut the fuck up Jerry, if he knew anything he would have told us before. He ain't gonna tell us shit even if he does know. He's toast." Bobby grabbed hold of Jessup Winston's robe and used it to haul his ass out of the compartment. "You son of a bitch," He growled at the trembling, half naked man, and gave him a hard shove into the icy snow at the back end of the car.

"He wasn't there?" Winston cried out. "Shit, man, I told you Macks was gonna move him!" He didn't try to hide t he tears that were creeping down his flushed cheeks. "I didn't do this, Macks did this," His voice raised an octave.

Bobby gave the gasoline can a jostle, allowing what was left of the liquid inside to slosh against the sides of the container noisily. "You hear that you fucker? That's the sound of you about to burn." Bobby popped open the nozzle and started pouring it over the man.

Winston cried out as gas hit his eyes. He tried to wipe at them, but the fuel was dripping down his face, the fumes seemed to be taking his breath from him. "No!" He gasped, barely audible. "I can still find him! I can still find him!" He choked out, grabbing for snow and using it on his face to clear the fumes from his eyes and nostrils.

"You think I'm going to believe that? You really think I'm gonna trust you now? You fuckin' lied to me!" Bobby yelled the words before throwing the can into the man. "You son of a bitch, he's a fourteen year old boy! He's a child who is still healing from more shit than you'll ever imagine, and you brought this down on him, on us! I'll be damned if you're getting out of this alive! You are going to burn!"

"I didn't lie!" Winston yelled. "The kid was here. Macks was moving him, I told you that!" He moved as if he were going to try to stand.

Bobby's left boot raised and gave the man a hard kick in the chest, sending him back into the snow. "Stay down!" He yelled at him when he started to sit up again. "You ain't walking away from this spot buddy, this is where you die!" He swung his boot again, making contact with Winston's chin, slamming the man flat on his back in the snow, blood instantly flowing from his mouth.

Jessup Winston spat out his two front teeth and then looked up at Bobby. "I know Macks' cell phone number." He huffed out the words, making them sound distorted from the lack of teeth to help him enunciate the vowels properly.

Bobby stared at the man for a long moment, thinking about his words, "Really? And why the fuck should I care about that fact?" He asked. "It ain't like you're gonna give him a call and politely ask him to return my brother, right?"

"His phone," Angel spoke. "Green could track the GPS." He looked at Bobby.

"I can call him, he'll talk to me!" Winston cried out.

Bobby fought down the urge to pull his last book of matches out of his pocket. He wanted to hurt this man lying in the snow at his feet. He wanted to make him hurt as badly as he was hurting, but he knew nothing would match his own pain at that moment. There was nothing he could to do to Winston that could make the man hurt as intensely, from such a deep part of his soul, it was impossible. You can't hurt a man who had never really had anything that mattered at stake, and this man had nothing but his money. He didn't have a kid at home that he had to protect and keep safe. Bobby couldn't have hurt any kid even if Winston had one, but the whole point was he had never had anything that important at stake. He had his money, he had his deals, and his business, but he didn't have anything as important as a family, or brothers, or children. He would have to settle for killing the man, but if he killed him too soon, he could sever any ties he might be able to establish with Macks. He had to get to Macks first; he had to get to Craig. The time for killing the son of a bitch would come, but not yet.

"Okay, Winston, you might have just bought yourself a little more time." Bobby nodded his head. "Where is your fucking cell phone?"

"At my apartment, you wouldn't let me get dressed or take anything with me, remember?" Winston made the mistake of using an irritated tone with the Mercer hovering above him and then he sat himself up in the snow.

Bobby's boot swung out again and made contact with the man's chest, sprawling him back into the icy mixture under him. "I didn't tell you to get up." He commented. "I'll tell you when to get up."

Winston looked up at Bobby from his position in the snow. "Think about it, the son of a bitch lied to me, and then left me behind to take the heat for his shit. I want to get him too." He spoke the words quietly, and his voice came out steady and strong, though it did sound amusing how the words warped through the large gap formed by the missing teeth in the front of his mouth. "I know what you're after; I'm just not the one that you need to get it from. I don't have the kid, but I can help you get him."

Bobby's eyes narrowed. "You'll help? Hell, you're gonna help, and you ain't gonna use the situation to try to weasel your way into my brother's project either." He warned.

Winston laughed. "With Macks out of the way, I'll have all of Sweet's holdings, I won't need your fucking project." Winston's stare matched Bobby's. "Let's just say that for the time being we call a fucking truce and I'll help you get your brother. I ain't looking to die tonight, hell; I ain't looking to die for a long fucking time. Don't you think I'll do what has to be done to survive?" He actually smiled at Bobby, and then looked at Jerry and Angel, giving each a long stare. "I'm not as desperate for money or drugs as Macks, I know when to back off, and I know who to side with when a choice has to be made."

Bobby nodded his head, as if agreeing with the man, and reached out to offer his hand to help him up. Winston grinned and took Bobby's offered assistance.

Bobby grinned back at the man as he lifted, but half way into the lift, he let go of his hand, and let him fall back into the hard snow pack. "Don't fuck with me Winston. I don't forgive easy, and trust me, I sure as hell don't forget." He warned with a threatening tone. Yeah, he was gonna kill this fucker, but until that time came, he would let him think he was falling for any line he was casting out there. But eventually, this man was going to burn in hell.

Winston obviously read the threat, and nodded his head. "My phone is back at my apartment. Don't you think we should get to it so I can call Macks before he puts too much distance between himself and us?" He didn't try to stand again; he seemed to be waiting for a sign that it would be a safe move.

* * *

Craig could feel the change in the road. It seemed as if he were being rocked hard continuously, his body rising each rut and ridge the tires hit, slamming hard into the steel beneath him. He felt tears slipping out of his eyes, feeling the bruises forming on his ice cold skin with each impact. The movement of the car slowed, and eventually stopped. He had no idea how long he'd been there, but it seemed that it had been forever.

He now that the wind wasn't whirling around him he could hear the engine idling with a steady rhythm. He strained his ears to hear any other noises, but there was nothing. After a few minutes he heard two car doors slamming shut, and then voices grew closer. He felt his heart starting to race when he heard movement close by, the sound of a door opening, and then the heavy weight bearing down on him seemed to lift away. He heard the sound of hinges groaning, and he felt the air flowing more freely around him. Hands grabbed at him and he was being pulled out of his tomb. He was dropped hard into the snow covered ground, sinking into it, and praying he wasn't going to be left there long. He could feel the cold instantly penetrate the canvas. The moisture couldn't get through, but he felt as if he were in a freezer.

"Let him piss, then bring him inside." Adam's voice grunted above him.

The bag was grabbed again, and then the zipper opened up. Craig felt hands grab hold of him around the waist and lift him out of his cramped quarters in the bag. He was lifted just enough to pull him free of the canvas, and then he was set back down in the snow, on his knees.

"Take care of business." The voice tore through his mind like a hot poker, but his mind was stiff fuzzy, and confused, he couldn't quite place where he'd heard it before. He pulled himself up so that he was sitting straight, though he could feel his body tilting slightly, and wasn't able to level his mind out. He realized that he did need to pee. His bound hands were quite capable of doing what he needed to, but it felt awkward trying to find the waistband of his sweatpants, and fumbled about with the task.

As soon as he was finished he felt the hands grab him around the waist again and lift him up. His bare feet were dragged through the snow, and across wooden planks that thudded dully under the shoes the man was wearing. He could feel the change in the air when he was pulled through a doorway, but the feel of the wooden planks under his feet didn't change.

"Put him down over there." Adam ordered from somewhere in the room.

Craig was again dropped, but this time there was no snow to catch him, only the hard unfinished floor. He found himself lying on his back, and didn't dare try to move.

"Okay, I'm leaving now." The stranger spoke quietly.

"Not so fucking fast. I'm not through with you." Adam laughed. "I need food, and supplies. I have a list here." I have to get his room ready for him, and I'm going to need help with that."

"His room," The strange man sounded irritated. "You are worried about getting a room ready for him in this shit hole?"

"Yeah, you idiot, I need to make sure he can't get the fuck out of here. It's not like I'm gonna be here with him all of the fucking time. I got business back in Detroit to take care of. He's gonna have to be locked in tight. Once I'm sure he's not going to be able to try any stupid shit, you're gonna drive me back." Adam Macks laughed.

"You're gonna leave him here?" The second man cried out.

"Don't look so worried, it's not like I won't be back." Adam commented. "Now go get this shit." The sound of the door slamming shut came next, and then the sound of the car driving away drifted through the air.

The sound of footsteps on the plank floor drew closer to the boy. Moments later he felt his father's presence hovering over him, and then he felt the man's hot breath through the pillowcase that still covered his face. "I'm going to take off the cover, and that blindfold and gag. I'll even untie your hands. If you behave, I might let you have some water." He sounded almost kind at that moment. "Do you want some water?"

Craig nodded his head slowly. Yes, he was thirsty. He was freezing, and he was hurting. The aching in his head seemed to be easing off a little, but the dizziness and disorientation was still there.

He felt the tie around his throat holding the pillowcase in place loosen, and then the fabric was pulled away. The gag and blindfold were both removed, with slow, precise moves. He kept his eyes closed once the blind fold was moved away, afraid to look up at his father. Though his mind was still fuzzy and confused, he seemed to be thinking a little more clearly than he had been before and that meant that the reality of the situation was more vivid to him. He wasn't about to open his eyes unless Adam Macks told him to.

"Sit up." The man ordered as he moved away. "You can take a look at your new home." He almost sounded cheerful.

Craig opened his eyes and sat up slowly. It appeared they were in the remains of an old abandoned house. The floors were bare, there was no furniture, and the wallpaper was peeling away from walls in little chunks. He was on the floor at the back wall. There didn't seem to be any glass in the windows, and the smell of charred wood, while it was faint, hung in the air. He drew in a shaky breath while he watched his father stoop down next to a brown paper back on the floor next to the closed door. The man turned back to look at him, a bottle of water clasped in his hands. "I grew up here." He laughed and looked around the room. "It was a big, beautiful house." He stood and walked back over to the boy, resuming his stoop there, next to him. He set the bottle down on the floor and reached up to grab at the rope holding Craig's hands secure at the wrists. He untied the binding and then handed him the water.

Craig looked at Adam, not sure if he was supposed to drink or wait for permission. He was trying to remember this side of him. It had showed a few times when he was little, almost nice, but there was always a twist to it, he always turned mean quickly, at the slightest mistake.

Adam smiled at him, and nodded his head. "You can have one drink, no more than that. That one bottle of water is going to have to last you until I come back, so if you drink it all at once, you're going to get awfully thirsty." His smile looked mean, and that meant that there was much more behind his cheerful facade.

Craig's body was shivering as he struggled to open the bottle. He was careful to keep his drink short, and returned the cap carefully before holding it out towards Adam.

Adam's eyes narrowed and he took the bottle. "Well, you can follow direction. That's promising. You will need to learn a lot of shit, in a short time. I have you going on the market in just a few weeks. So when I get back, there will be a long, intense training session." He grinned wide.

Craig tried not to cringe on the outside at the sound of the man's words.

"Your room will be in the basement, so there really isn't any reason to show you the rest of the house." The man looked around the room once more. "This was the dining room." He frowned. "My parents had money, you know that?" He turned his gaze back to the boy. "Do you know what they did when they found out I was going to have a son? They disowned me, and cut me off from their money. After they died, I burned the house for the insurance, but they never paid me." His voice nearly growled. "They suspected arson, and they tried to pin it on me. They had a lot of fucking nerve. It wasn't as if I had a choice. No one would buy the place. It's out in the middle of nowhere. There's no one else around for miles, there's no electricity, no phone. Hell, this was a hell hole growing up. But they had the fucking money. They could have done anything with this place if they'd wanted to. They didn't want to give up that precious money."

Craig knew his father wasn't really talking to him. This was typical. He was going to talk himself into one of his rages, lose his temper, and Craig was going to be the only person around for him to take his anger out on. He knew what was coming, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Adam rambled on about how unfair his parents had been to him, now unfair life had been to him, and how he had one possession that no one else could claim. He had a son, his own blood and damn it, that meant he owned him, and he would make sure the kid knew who he belonged to. He stood before his temper really broke, and instead of fists coming at him, Craig was dodging the boots his father wore, the sharp metal tips of the toes aiming for his head.

Instinct curled the boy into a tight ball, his arms shielding his head, and his brain screaming out for Bobby. At the same time, a voice in the back of his brain told him Bobby wasn't coming; he would have been before his father had taken him out of the city if he was going to come. He was sure Bobby had been close at some point, and he had let his father take him anyways. His memories of exactly had happened were vague and mostly empty, but he was sure that he'd heard Bobby, and had been so sure that he was going to get to him, and make everything alright. It had never happened. Still, that part of him that wanted Bobby to take care of him still called out for him, wanted him to pull him back out of the hell that he'd been thrown into.


	42. Chapter 42

Thanks as always, and I'll be looking for your thoughts :)

Legal statement still counts.

* * *

**Chapter 42: Reality**

Jessup Winston seemed grateful when Bobby finally helped him up from the snow. He seemed even more grateful when he was helped into the back seat of the car and the heater was turned on, though he didn't look all that comfortable with Angel sitting next to him. He showed little reaction when Jeremiah made a call on his cell phone to talk to someone by the name of Green, but when they got to his apartment building he seemed genuinely surprised to be introduced to a police detective with the last name of Green just outside of the entrance door. The key card Angel had been given for the elevator earlier that evening worked easily on the front door, and the three Mercer brothers allowed the man to walk in ahead of them, with Detective Green following the entire lot through the door.

The young girl working security at the front desk looked genuinely shocked by the sight of Mr. Winston being escorted through the front door in his bloody and stained silk robe, with the three fire Marshal's she'd allowed in a couple of hours earlier, and her gaze hung on the new addition to the group, but she didn't say a word as they filed past her to the elevator. Of course Angel couldn't let the opportunity go by without flashing a smile at the girl.

The ride up to the top floor of the building was quiet and tense. Green kept looking at the Mercer brothers, and then would turn his gaze to Jessup Winston, but nothing was said. As the elevator came to a stop at the top floor Winston mentioned not being sure if the door had been locked when they left, but that worry was laid to rest when they exited the elevator, and found the door standing ajar. He walked with confidence over to the table holding his cell phones, and picked up the one that he would use to call Adam Macks.

Winston held the phone up and opened it quickly. "I'll call him, and I'll find out what I can." He spoke as his fingers started punching numbers.

Angel walked up to the man and snatched the phone away. "You dumb fuck, you really think we're gonna just call him? Why do you think there is an officer of the law standing your fucking living room right now?" He shot the man a scowl and turned to Green, handing him the phone.

Green drew in a deep breath, and started dialing the phone. "Yeah, it's Green; you got the equipment set up like I asked?" He spoke into the phone calmly. "Yeah, that's right the number I'm calling from now, it should come back as Jessup Winston." He nodded his head and paced the floor slowly, towards the glass windows, turning just as he reached the sliding glass door, and turning back. He smiled and leveled his gaze on Winston. "John Wallace?" He shook his head. "Okay, fine, then that's the number." He chuckled softly and sighed. "You got the fix?" He asked after a minute of waiting. "Okay, good. This phone is about to call another number, we need to trace that secondary signal, can you get the phone company to assist?" He asked. "Right, fifteen minutes." He nodded his head once more before hanging up the phone. He looked at Bobby, then Jerry and Angel, "They are going to call me back in fifteen minutes; it should be set up by then." He held the phone back out to Winston. "You'll make the call then, not before."

Winston took the phone, his nerves showing with his trembling hand.

"Mr. Winston, why don't you set the phone down there, and go clean up and get some clothes on? We don't want you coming down to the station looking like that, now do we?" Green seemed to be pleasant with the man.

Winston turned to walk to his bedroom without saying a word.

"Winston." Bobby spoke sharply, his tone holding a threat.

Jessup startled and turned to look at the oldest Mercer.

"Leave the fucking phone. And if you don't want me to come in there to keep an eye on you, you'll leave the door open and stay where the hell I can see you." Bobby's voice was loud.

Green laughed as Winston held the phone out to Bobby, then turned and went to his bedroom, leaving the door open as Bobby had ordered him to. "Damn Bobby, maybe you should have been a fucking cop."

Bobby didn't hide his disgust at the comment. "Yeah, and you should have been a hockey player." He spoke mockingly.

Green only laughed at the statement.

"Green, you really think they'll be able to track Macks' phone, just by callin' him?" Jerry stepped over to the man that was fast becoming an important ally to the brothers.

Green turned serious. "The cell phone companies can tell us where any cell phone is at any given time. They could tell me where you were last week if you had made a phone call, right down to the fucking city block. They usually cooperate with the police willingly, always wanting to help out, especially when a person's life is at stake. We just have to give them a signal to lock in on." He looked at Bobby again. "When we do locate his cell phone signal, you are going to let us deal with this, right? No more lone ranger antics. You will let us do our job."

Bobby could feel the veins in his forehead bulge out. "I will let your guys do your job. In the mean time, no one says I can't go after this ass hole myself." He kept his glare fixed on Green. "This guy is mine, and I am going to get my kid." He spoke carefully.

Both Angel and Jerry looked at Bobby with a surprise, "Your kid?" Angel asked.

"Bobby, he's our brother too." Jerry reminded quickly, but his voice was calm.

"Yeah, I know that, and I'm not trying to take away from that. But he's my kid. I'm in charge of him, and I'm the one responsible for him, so that makes him mine." Bobby spoke the words quietly, feeling a little embarrassed to speak his feelings.

Jerry sighed. "Hell, it was bound to happen. You think you gotta be in charge of every fucking thing. It's just hard to picture you as a Daddy. You never came across as father material, with your obsession with fire and the love of fighting that seems to take priority with you." His joking tone seemed to ease some of the tension building inside of Bobby, and the man had to smile at him. "I suppose the kid will be calling you Daddy next?" Jerry looked serious, but his tone was still playful.

"That would be great, but first let's just worry about getting him home." Angel spoke seriously.

* * *

Adam Macks stood over the boy, his fit having died down after several minutes. He was breathing hard, as if the physical abuse he'd just inflicted on the fourteen year old had worn him out. He stared at the boy, who was still holding his arms tight around his head. "Stop acting like such a fucking baby. I ain't gonna kick on you anymore." The words came out breathlessly. "Sit your ass back up." He ordered.

Craig let his bruised and nicked arms down slowly, forcing himself to sit up, slowly and carefully. His head was back to throbbing as hard as before. The fear, and the effort it had taken to keep his arms held around his head had weakened him it seemed, as if his body just didn't have the energy for the activity.

Macks walked over to a door on the other side of the room and pulled it open. He let his feet fall heavy on the floor, and the vibrations seemed to reach the boy long before his father returned. The man reached down, grabbed his arm and jerked him hard to his feet. "You will walk, or you will regret it. No more dragging your fucking feet. You are gonna start earning your keep." He yelled loud, as if his patience has been tested, but Craig hadn't done anything, he hadn't said anything, he hadn't tried to run, and he'd done everything the man had told him. His memories of how his father always seemed to be angry with him swept over him, and he knew it didn't matter how hard he tried it was always going to be like this.

Craig did his best to keep his feet under him, though his legs felt as if they were made of paper trying to support his body. He stumbled a few times as his father pulled him towards the door. As they got closer to the door, Craig could see old wooden steps leading downward into a wall of dark. He felt dread washing over him, and somehow his mind managed to turn on the gray haze, and bring the numbness. He didn't let his body tremble. He knew he wasn't allowed to act scared, he wasn't allowed to beg for pity, though he didn't know why his father was so angry with him; but there didn't have to be a reason, this was his father.

Adam pulled him down the creaking steps into the dark, damp basement. Craig couldn't see in the thick void of nothing, and he felt his panic trying to build. He had to fight hard to keep that numb feeling, to let it spread from his gut to the rest of his body. He could feel soft dirt under his bare feet, cold dirt. He could smell mold, and mildew, and several silky webs brushed against his face. He did his best not to scream out from the fear that was trying to burst through that wall of non feeling he was working hard to keep up.

His eyes were starting to adjust to the dark just enough to make out shapes, but he knew it was not going to get any brighter. He heard the rusty hinges of a door being pulled open in front of him, and could barely make out the doorway that his father had just opened up in front of them. It sounded as if the hinges hadn't moved for years, and the blackness beyond that dark outline of a door frame was thick and heavy, making the boy feel as if he were going to sink into it, suffocating in it as he would if it were water. He felt his father push him hard into that black wall in front of him. He landed face first into soft dirt, and moments later, he felt his father on him, pulling at the sweatpants, sliding them off, and then grabbing for his shirt. The hockey jersey Bobby had given him to sleep in, so that he would feel safe.

The last connection he had to his brothers was ripped off of him, and then he was grabbed and pulled to his feet.

"You want to fuck with me boy? You want to make this harder?" Adam yelled at him, hovering somewhere above him, but invisible in the wall of black. Craig felt a shirt being pushed onto him, but it wasn't the one he'd been wearing. This shirt was thin and cold, and fell down almost to his knees. He felt disoriented in the dark, his already throbbing head seemed to be magnifying the sounds of his own pulse in his ears, and each pulse sent a new wave of pain through his head, trying to tilt him to one side. His vision started to dot up with sparkling stars, filling the dark void with a whole new universe.

"Get on your knees." Adam growled the words at him from somewhere in that void surrounding him.

Craig let his self fall to his knees as the man ordered, nearly falling to his left side, but managing to stay upright.

"My friend will be back soon. I promised him an hour with you. I promised him you would do what he said, and you would thank him when he was finished with you. If you don't perform appropriately, he will tell me. I expect you to give him your best performance. If you don't, you will regret it." There was a long pause, and Craig almost thought the man that had contributed to his DNA had left quietly, but then he felt a hand cup under his chin and lift his head slightly. "You still think the Mercers are going to come for you? I already told you, they don't give a fuck about you. They never wanted you to start with, the only reason they let you stick around after the old woman died was because they thought they'd be able to get some money out of the state for you. Hell, they found out different, and now, they don't want anything to do with you. I'm all you got boy. You might as well learn to live with that fact."

Craig felt his right arm being grabbed and moments later a needle was sinking deep into the muscle just above his elbow.

"The Mercers aren't coming for you. They could care less about what happens to you. I'm the only one that cares and I won't give a damn about you myself if you don't bring me in plenty of money." Adam's voice seemed to warp after a few minutes, and the drug that had been shot into his arm started to take over, magnifying the words, and turning his brain into a wet sponge, dripping with confusion.

His father's words kept coming and the meaning of the words seemed to change with each breath. After what felt like an eternity, there was another presence with them, more hands grabbing hold of him, and a familiar, yet strange voice was instructing him on what he was supposed to do. He felt detached from it all, and wasn't completely sure of what he was doing, but the colors started to swirl around him in the blackness, and he was soon lost in them, lost in the pain of knowing that his brothers had turned on him, and left him to this.

He wanted Evelyn Mercer to come and make his pain stop, to take away the confusion, but his mind cast a picture of his adoptive mother standing on the other side of a glass wall, pounding on it with the palms of her hands, seemingly yelling at him, but her words weren't audible through the window separating them. He wanted to go to her, he wanted to know what she was saying, but he couldn't make it out, and he couldn't move away from the spot he was laying at that time. There was heavy pressure on his chest, and he couldn't move. He tried to cry out to her, but he couldn't make his voice work, he couldn't move, and he couldn't cry out to her. Then she was gone, and the sounds of feet moving around him seemed to reach his drugged mind. He was lying in the dirt, on his stomach, the shirt he'd been wearing pushed up as far as his armpits.

Arms grabbed him and jerked him back up to his knees. "Say thank you, you little shit." Adam's distorted voice, he thought, but he wasn't the only one there. The other man was still close, Craig could feel his breath behind him, on his neck. He realized the second man was at his level, directly behind him, probably still on his knees.

"Thank you." Craig barely got the words out. He felt his skin wilt at the feel of a tongue running up the back of his neck, to his ear.

"I'll be back, and I'll show you how to really make me happy." The voice was quiet, mostly a whisper right into his ear. The man behind him stood and walked away in the dark.

"I'll be back in two days." Adam's voice spoke from somewhere in the dark. "Your water is on the floor in the corner. I left you a couple of packs of crackers too, but you'd better hold onto them, the rats might try to get at them. You make sure to ration your water boy." He felt his father's hand rest on his forehead. "I want you well rested when I get back. You are going to spend a lot of time with 'daddy' when he gets home, you're my Christmas present this year, and I plan on enjoying every second I get to spend with you." The hand gave Craig a hard shove and he landed hard on his back, bringing more colors, more stars in front of his eyes.

Then he heard the sound of the door hinges wheezing loudly as the barrier holding him in was forced shut. He could hear the hard thud and felt as if he had been sealed in to die there. He tried to sit up, but at that moment his body didn't want to move. He heard what sounded like the cylinder of a lock being engaged, and then the sounds of object hitting the other side of the door.

Each sound seemed to echo in his brain, and generate more colors in the thick blackness; the colors distracted him for a few moments, watching the different designs that were taking shape.

Then more noises outside the door drew him back to reality for another short time. He thought it sounded as if someone was stacking objects in front of the door, and he found it funny enough that he had to laugh. Why stack anything in front of the door? It wasn't as if he was going to be able to get out of there. He didn't have the strength to climb back up the stairs to the floor above him even if he did manage to get the door open. He had the smallest amount of food possible, and very little water. The air around him was ice cold, he was wearing only a shirt and his underwear, and he was in the dark. He knew he was going to die there, right in that dungeon his father called his room. He was going to die, and no one was going to miss him, or care that he was dead.

His mouth felt hot and dry. He was thirsty, and he wanted some water. He tried once to turn onto his stomach so that he could feel around in the dark for the bottle his father said he'd left for him, but his body didn't seem to want to cooperate. He swallowed at the dry scratchy feeling in his throat, and decided to wait, to let his body build up some strength. He heard the sounds of footsteps above him, and, moving about. He heard the door upstairs slam shut, and then moments later, the very faint sound of a car engine, but only for a short moment. He felt tears starting to run almost as soon as he was sure he'd been abandoned in that dark, cold hole in the ground.

He screamed out, "Mom!" He was desperate to feel her touch and hear her voice. He knew it hadn't been real before, when he'd been trapped with Victor Sweet, but he didn't care, it had made him feel better, and he wanted that now. He waited, but she never came. He didn't hear her voice he didn't feel her touch in the darkness.

"Bobby!" His scream was louder than before, "Please?" He let the tears flow freely, crying hard for the first time since he'd become aware that he was in his father's hands. "I'll be good, I promise, please let me come home?" He managed to turn onto his side and curl up into himself just moments before his mind slipped away from him, to the colors and the echoes of his father's words.

He pulled his hands up to cover his ears in an attempt to block out his father's voice resounding all around him in the dark, but it only seemed to intensify it. The words bouncing off the invisible walls, turning to different shades of red and orange, and not stopping, not changing, the same things over and over and over. "They don't' want you. They could care less about you. They never wanted you, only the old lady wanted you, and she'd dead now. You only got me, no one else, you had better get used to that."


	43. Chapter 43

As always, let me know what you think :) and thanks for reading!

Legal statement still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 43: Mirage**

Bobby stood directly in front of Jessup Winston as the man dialed the cell phone. He drew in a nervous breath, praying his worry wasn't showing. He didn't want the man in front of him to know he was scared. That was the last thing he needed, for this guy to know that he was scared about what was happening. He listened while Jessup sighed and hung up the phone. "Where ever he is he must be out of range of any signal for his phone." The man spoke with a shaky voice.

"Try it again." Green pushed; his voice not quite as calm now that the tension was so thick in the air.

"He's not answering its going straight to his voice mail." Winston spoke with frustration.

"I said, try it again. You keep tryin' until you get a fucking answer." Green took a step closer to the man. "You do it, or we can take this whole party down to the station right now. It's up to you." He threatened.

Winston let out a huff and dialed the phone again. Moments later the look in his eyes shifted from frustration to surprise. "Macks?" He spoke quickly, "Where in the hell are you?" He let his tone take on one of anger, "You fucker, you left me to the wolves, now where are you?"

Green was on his own cell phone instantly, moving away from conversation so that he could talk quietly without Macks hearing him over Winston's phone.

Bobby felt his gut twist up on him. His heart started racing, and his blood turned to ice as he tried to hold his temper long enough to let the phone call work the miracle that it was supposed to. He listened as Winston weaved a tail of talking to the police half the night about his building burning. The man told Macks that he'd gotten a visit from the Mercers, but that he'd managed to talk his way out of it, except for a busted up mouth. Bobby had to admit, this guy was good, he was convincing, even to him, and he knew he was lying through is fucking teeth. That fact only reinforced his impression that this was one man he couldn't trust. This was one man that was a danger to him and his family, and as soon as this was all over; he knew the circumstances would call for him to kill him.

Jeremiah and Angel joined Bobby in his position directly in front of Winston; all three listening to the man spin as many tails as he could to keep the son of a bitch on the phone and talking. Green had his own phone held up to his ear, listening to someone on the other end.

"Ohio?" Winston cried out. "What the fuck are you doin' there? We got business to tend to here you ass hole." His own words sounded distorted from the missing front teeth courtesy of Bobby Mercer.

There was silence for along moment. "Hell, that Mercer son of a bitch knocked my teeth out trying to get information out of me. I told you they were here." Winston spoke calmly. "Now what the hell are you doing south of the state line?" He asked and seemed to listen for a few moments. "You got family that claims you?" He forced a laugh to try to make the conversation seem light hearted. "Really, you're saying your family had money, and you have property down there?" He looked over at Green, who was nodding his head and smiling. The man gave a quick thumbs up signal to indicate they had a track on the signal.

"When are you coming back Macks? We got work to take care of. Top of the list are those Mercers. I want my hands in on that project, and that was supposed to come before the other business." He nodded his head quickly. "Okay, I'll see you then." He let the call end and looked at the Mercers. "He has your brother at a family farm in Ohio." He announced.

Green spoke a few more words into his own phone before hanging up. "It has been confirmed, he is in Ohio, on the other side of Columbus, but he seems to be on the move, heading back this way."

"Where in the hell is this fucking farm?" Bobby's voice came out tight and thin.

"He wouldn't tell me that much." Winston shook his head. "But I figure it's not going to take much to check into his family's holdings." He turned to Green.

"I already have someone looking into it. Don't worry Bobby; if he left Craig somewhere, it's just going to be that much easier to find him, that's all." Green had a look of confidence about him. "We can get to Craig, and we can nab that sick fucker without putting Craig in danger."

Bobby sucked in a deep breath. "I'm going." He turned and headed for the door. He was ready for the arguments from his brothers, and Green, but he was going after Craig, and no one was going stop him.

"What?" Green cried out. "You have no idea where in Ohio he is Bobby! He could be anywhere south of Columbus."

Jerry and Angel followed Bobby's footsteps, not arguing with him, but seemingly ready to back him up.

"You call my cell when you got a location." Jerry called back to Green as the three Mercers exited the apartment, leaving Green to deal with Winston.

* * *

Craig's mind was able to run wild in the dark. He seemed to move in time, drifting from his nightmarish years with his real parents, to the time he'd been spending with his brothers, and then warping back to his adoptive mother, and the way she had taken care of him, protected him and seemed to understand everything about him without having to be told anything he was thinking.

He cried for a long time after his father had left him alone, in that dark pit to think about what had had been done to him, and how his brothers seemed to have abandoned him. He called out for Evelyn, more than once. He'd called out and begged her to make his head stop hurting, to make the aching in his gut go away, and to make his brothers change their minds and decide they wanted him. He kept waiting for her to come and comfort him, but she never did. He didn't understand why his mind couldn't conjure up her image and pretend she was there, like it had when he had been held by Victor Sweet, maybe it was because her features were hazy in his mind, his vision of her wasn't as fresh as it had been just a couple of weeks earlier. His thoughts spun in the dark, bringing back every moment he'd spent with Sweet, every touch, every feel. He tried to push it back, but the black was heavy, thick and suffocating, and seemed to generate the memories. He tried again to get the image of his mother to come to him, but it didn't work.

He did find his mind picturing Bobby, though he would try to drive that vision down. He didn't want to see Bobby, he was pissed at Bobby. Bobby had let this happen to him, he'd let his father have him, and he hated him at that moment. The vision wouldn't go away though, no matter how hard he tried. In fact, it seemed to become more vivid, and more detailed with every passing second. Bobby, standing over him, his mouth moving as if he were saying something to him, and he decided that since he couldn't get it to leave him alone he'd have a talk with that man while he was actually able to do so without having to worry about any ass beatings coming his way.

"Why did you give me to him Bobby?" The boy's voice started out shaky and weak. "You said you cared. You said we were brothers. You all said that. But you really didn't want me." He listened to his own words repeating what his father had been saying to him. He felt their impact more heavily at that moment than at any time his father had spoken them. "He hurts me." He kept his gaze on his brother, though he squeezed his eyes shut hard. "He hurts me Bobby, and I thought you weren't going to let him hurt me anymore. What did I do wrong? Why don't you want me?"

To his surprise a confused look came across the face of the Bobby hallucination above him. "Craig, he's lying to you." His brother's voice echoed loudly in his head.

Realization seemed to dawn on the boy at that moment. In the distorted reality that he'd been forced to endure for what seemed an eternity; a small voice of reason was trying to surface. He opened his eyes, though it made no difference if they were closed or open, everything was dark and the colors were still swirling around him. The only difference was the image of Bobby standing next to him, the colors moving around him, dancing through his image.

"I'm coming, you just hold on. When I get here, everything will be okay. I promise." Bobby knelt down next to him, and Craig was sure he could feel his brother's hand rest on his forehead. "You have a fever; you should sip on a little water. Get your water, and get something in your stomach. You need to eat. If you haven't eaten by the time I get here, I'm gonna feed you myself, so get to it." His hand pulled away, but his image remained there, looking down at him.

Craig stared up at his brother's face, and he swallowed at his dry throat. "Bobby, don't leave me here. Please don't leave me here?" He cried.

"I just told you, I'm coming. Right now, you do what the fuck I told you; get your ass moving, I won't tell you again. Get the water, and some of those crackers, now." Bobby sounded just like Bobby, always barking out orders.

"What are you going to do if I don't listen? It's not like you're really here." Craig muttered to himself. "You're just a made up dream. You aren't really coming."

"Kid, if you don't want me here, I'll leave." Bobby stood, keeping his gaze on the boy.

"No, don't go. I'll do it. I'll get the water." Craig cried out. "Please don't leave me here Bobby? Please don't leave me alone?"

"Get the water, now." Bobby nodded his head.

Craig forced his aching body to roll over onto his stomach, and managed to get up onto his knees. He crawled around in the dark, feeling for anything that would help him find where he was in the room. He had no idea how big or small the room was. He didn't know exactly where the water and crackers were that his father had been talking about. He came to a cold, stone wall, and made his way to the corner. The distance wasn't far to that corner, maybe four feet. He felt along in the dirt as he made his way around the wall. Another seven feet, he guessed, until he came to the next corner. He had managed to find three corners before he came across the water. He guessed that the room was maybe seven feet by six feet of nothing but dirt floor and rock walls. He sat himself in that last corner, his two small packs of crackers and his water in his hand. He looked up at Bobby. "He's not coming back for two days. What if I run out of water before then? He won't give me any more." He felt the tears streaking his face, and his voice came out sounding like a dry crackle.

"I'll be here long before he comes back. You just sip on that water, right now. I'm not telling you again." Bobby sat on the floor on the other side of the back room, at least where Craig could guess where the other side might be.

"He said there were rats in here Bobby." Craig informed his imaginary company. "What if the rats come out and try to bite me?"

"They won't. I'll keep them away." Bobby sounded fairly calm. "You know me, I can handle anything. I'll bite them first." He laughed.

Craig looked at the man while he opened the bottle of water in his hands. "How much can I drink?" He asked, not sure.

"You take a couple of good swallows. You're dehydrated, and you have a fever. You've got a nasty bump on your head there, and the shit that son of a bitch keeps shooting into you ain't helping any. It's messing with your mind kid; you gotta try to remember that, okay?" Bobby sounded calm, using the same voice he'd used when Craig started to dream in the middle of the night.

Craig took a drink and let the water wash down his aching throat. He waited a moment before taking another drink. "Bobby?" He capped the bottle and looked over at the image staring back at him.

"Yeah," Bobby seemed to be waiting for the question.

"Why did he have to be my Dad?" He asked quietly. "I hate him. Why couldn't I have had a real Dad, like most kids."

"You don't need a Dad, you got me, and I'm just as fucking good." Bobby shrugged his shoulders. "And like I said, I'm coming. You munch on a couple of those crackers now. You need to get something on your stomach."

"I'm not hungry." Craig muttered. "I don't want to put anything in my mouth." He admitted. "They made me..."

"I know what they did. Don't worry about that. That was them, not you." Bobby shook his head. "No open a pack of those crackers."

Craig obeyed the imaginary Bobby. He opened the crackers and started chewing on one of them slowly. He kept his gaze on the image in front of him while he ate the crackers, afraid his pretend Bobby would disappear into the black and he'd be alone again. The dream version of Bobby didn't move and it didn't fade; it just stayed there, looking back at him. He was feeling a little less panicked, and he was calming down. He took another drink of the water once he'd finished off one pack of crackers.

"You feel any better?" The mirage spoke once Craig had the water sealed tight again.

Craig shook his head slowly. "No." He felt his voice shaking, and he felt fresh tears sliding down his cheeks. "I want to go home." He didn't look away from his minds version of Bobby, the fear of him disappearing seemed to grow. What if he lost this vision of Bobby? He didn't know if it was crazy, wanting to keep this fantasy alive, but if he let his mind turn off the image, he knew he would really start seeing and hearing things that would drive him crazy, truly crazy. At least he knew this wasn't real, didn't he? He knew it wasn't real, but he chose to hold onto it. That was different than letting his mind slip into the fear that was waiting in the dark.

* * *

Adam Macks ended his call with Jessup Winston, and sat back in the passenger seat of the van, looking thoughtfully at the road ahead, the backed up traffic on the Columbus bypass. Apparently there was an accident ahead, and they were a standstill at the moment. That was fine though, there was something about the way Winston had talked to him that pissed him off, and gave him an uneasy feeling. The son of a bitch was acting as if this was his operation, and he didn't like that. He was the one in charge. He was the one calling the fucking shots. That son of a bitch had a lot of nerve, ordering him to get his ass back to Detroit.

He wanted to find out what the hell was going on, but he was three hours away, at least. The drive in the early morning hours hadn't been bad, he'd pushed Jordan to keep the speed above eighty, and they had managed to get to his childhood home in good time, but the return trip was turning into the ride from hell amid the morning rush hour traffic.

Macks turned and looked at Jordan. "Can't we get off of this bitch and find get around this?" He asked the man while pointing to an exit just a few yards ahead of them.

Jordan had been gripping the steering wheel hard with both hands, thought they weren't moving. The man reached up with his left hand and pushed his glasses up his nose, and practice that Macks had noticed was quiet frequent and to be honest got on the man's nerves. "Well, we could, but I don't know where we would end up. I'm not familiar with this area, are you?"

Macks laughed at the stupidity of this man next to him. He was in charge of the education of kids, and he had no common sense what so ever. "Jordan, you stupid shit, I grew up in this area. Don't you think I would be familiar with it just a little?" He snapped the words at the driver.

Jordan rolled his eyes and twisted on the wheel, easing the van out of the line of traffic, onto the edge of the road, and then headed for the exit. "You don't have to be so shitty. I'm not very good with direction, I get lost easy, so I'm careful." He spoke quietly.

"Jesus." Macks muttered.

"So what was the phone call about?" Jordan asked.

"None of your fucking business," Macks snapped and pointed in the direction the man needed to turn the van once they got to the end of the exit.

"Well, you have dragged me in this deep; don't you think I should know what I've gotten myself into?" Jordan asked while he followed the man's silent direction.

Macks laughed. "Hell, fifteen years you went without touching a kid, and you had my boy twisted up like a pretzel. Now you want to know fucking details." He shook his head. "You're enjoying this shit, ain't you Jordan? You kept your nose clean for fifteen fucking years, and one little taste has you wanting more, right?"

Jordan's jaw set tight. "I didn't want to be a part of this. You brought this on me. One fucking picture and you screwed up all the work I had put into turning my life around." He spoke quietly.

"It's more than one picture Jordan, and you have to admit, you have never stopped looking at little boys. You ain't never stopped thinking about what the hell it felt like to get your hands on one and hold him down while you did what you wanted with him. Once a predator, always a predator, you can't change who you are, and you can't fight off the urges inside of you my friend. You need to embrace them." Adam spoke cheerfully. "I always have."

Jordan sighed, "I'm going to lose my family." He spoke quietly.

"You never really wanted them to start with, now did you? You just wanted to fit in with the rest of your brothers and sisters. They were normal, they looked normal, acted normal, and there you were some fuck up that your parents were ashamed of. You thought that if you got married, got a respectable job, that your parents would look at you different. They didn't though, did they? They still find fault with you every time you see them. They criticize everything you do and say. Isn't that true?" Macks purposely kept his tone pleasant. This guy was too easy to read. He was a lot like Adam Macks had been when he was younger, always trying to please, but never being good enough.

Adam had broken free of the hell called home, while Jordan had struggled through the years to burry who and what he truly was. But the sick fucker still put himself close to kids on a daily basis. Hell, Macks would wager the pitiful excuse of a man fantasized daily about the very kids he was supposed to be guiding through high school. He had planned on using Jordan and then tossing him to the side of the road, but he had come in handy as a means of getting the kid out the area. He needed the idiot that was sitting next to him, mostly because he would do what he was told without asking questions. But now he was starting to get nosey. He didn't need that, but he still needed the guy, he would use him a little while longer before cutting him loose.

There was a long moment of silence before Jordan cleared his throat. "So, the phone call? You didn't sound too happy about what ever was said."

Macks didn't look over at the man. "Just some people tryin' to cause some problems. I'll take care of it when I get back. Winston seems to think I left him hangin', having to deal with the Mercers." He let his irritation show. "I'll show him how to deal with those people."

Jordan reached up with his hand and gave his glasses a push. "He's been talking to the Mercers?" He sounded nervous. "So, has he told them anything? You don't know, he might try to set you up. You told him where you were too. He's knows where you took that kid. What if the Mercers were holding a gun on him, making him call you. Maybe..."

"Would you just shut the fuck up!" Macks yelled the words, silencing the pest next to him. Damn, Jordan might have been a pain in the ass, but he was right. He had a point. He could very well have just screwed up by telling Winston where he was, and why. Shit.


	44. Chapter 44

Sorry for the delay, had to switch my days and nights, gotta work tonight :( But here it is, let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!

Legal statement still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 44: Facing the Truth**

Adam Macks held his phone up and stared at it. Jordan's words had been bugging him for the past hour and a half. What if Winston had been calling him to get information for the Mercers, or worse yet, for the police? He sighed and opened the phone up. "Let's just give Jessup a call back." He muttered.

"What are you doing? You really think he's going to tell you if he ratted you out?" He asked.

Macks gave the man a sideways glance. "Don't use the word 'ratted'." He muttered with a bit of irritation. The guy just got on his nerves. "You just drive, and let me tend to my business, my way. This has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me. You are the one who forced me into this. I didn't have a choice, and now you are going to drag me down with you, I feel it." Jordan's voice remained quiet, and even toned. "I'm going to lose everything because of one mistake years ago." He seemed to be talking more to himself than Macks.

Macks looked down at the speedometer and shook his head. "Would you pick up some speed? You've been creeping along at the speed limit. We have a schedule to keep here." He couldn't believe it was taking them this long on the return trip, they had made much better time when they had driving south. He opened his phone and dialed Winston's number. The phone rang until it went to voicemail. That irritated the man. "Shit." He dialed again, and again got the voicemail. He drew in a deep breath. "He has five minutes." He muttered, and waited.

The time ticked by slowly, and Macks had only one person to take his frustration out on. He looked at the speedometer again and nearly growled the words that he spoke, "What the fuck Jordan, you're driving like an old lady." And felt satisfied when the man hit the gas.

Five minutes later Macks opened his phone once more and started dialing. "I'll find out what the fuck is going on." He held the phone to his ear and wasn't surprised when his call was answered quickly this time. Yeah, Higgins knew where the money was, and wouldn't ignore his call. He listened as Higgins informed him one Mercer, Jack, was in the hospital, and from he'd been able to piece together the rest of them were out looking for the kid, that meant they were looking for Macks, and they had indeed visited Jessup Winston. He didn't know the details, only that it seemed that the detective that was being such a pain in the ass was also involved, and was still with Winston.

Macks listened quietly, his rage building Higgins' words sunk in. The detective was still with Winston. He was still with him. Shit, he'd been with him when he'd been talking to him on the phone. Jordan was as dumb as a box of rocks, but he'd picked up on that one right away. "One of them Mercers is still in the fucking hospital?" He asked the question with a threat underlying his words. "Well why in the hell ain't you been up there to visit with him and ask a few questions of your own Higgins?" He kept his voice quiet. "I think you could find out some more detail for me if you really put some effort into it." He hung up the phone and looked over at Jordan. "Turn this fucking van around. We need to go back, now. They know where we are." He ordered with the anger seething from his lips.

Jordan didn't ask any questions, he turned around in the first emergency turn he could find in the middle of the interstate and headed back the other direction. "We're two hours away." He muttered once he had the van moving southbound.

"Well not if you drive like you know what the fuck you're doing." Macks looked at the speedometer again and shook his head. "Pull over and let me fucking drive." He yelled after a couple more minutes, but at that moment his cell phone rang, and when he looked down he seen Winston's number flashing back at him.

* * *

Bobby glanced over at Jerry who was holding the road map they had just purchased at the gas station. He had a full tank of gas, his can in the trunk was full and he had a pocket full of matches, just in case. It was a little after seven thirty, and they had just crossed the state line into Ohio. Jerry was checking the map for any routes they could take that would help them avoid the morning rush hour traffic around Toledo, just in case they came across any backups.

Angel had called the hospital to check on Jack, who it seemed was doing fine, and would probably be released later that afternoon, so Angel called Sofi and updated her on where he was and why. "Can you do us a favor and go to the hospital? Make sure Jack gets home? We'll check in later, and let him know what is going on." He spoke to her quietly on the phone. After that his voice grew even quieter, talking sweet to the woman on the other end of the phone.

Jerry had a few different routes marked out before he pulled out his own phone and called Camille. He explained to her where he was, and her voice could be heard on the other end of the phone, arguing the fact that he'd left the state before he called to talk to her. She understood why he was going with Bobby, but she was worried about him, and his brothers. After Jerry hung up he announced that Camille was going to the hospital to help Sofi.

Bobby could feel his blood pressure building up, and his aching ribs could have used another dose of painkillers right then, though he wouldn't have taken any if he'd had them. He was already running off of pure nerves as it was, he didn't need the drugs to make him tired. He could have let someone else drive so that he could try to get some sleep, but he couldn't give up the driver's seat, not right then, it would have felt wrong. He still didn't have a final destination; he only knew he was heading towards Columbus. Macks had been just south of Columbus, heading north, back towards Michigan. Bobby found himself watching the oncoming traffic for any signs of Jordan's van. He was sure he would recognize it if he seen it. He'd been staring it straight on when he'd nearly been run down just the day before. Hell, it seemed longer than that. He hadn't been to bed, none of them had, and he felt as if he'd been searching for Craig for a lifetime.

Craig had to be terrified. His experience with Sweet was still fresh, and the kid hadn't gotten past that yet, now to have this happen, with his father being the one who had him, had to be more damaging to the kid. Bobby knew the sooner he could get to him the better. He wished he could be there with him, where ever he was, just telling him to hold on, that it was going to be okay.

He called out to the boy with his mind that he was coming; he needed to hold on, and believe that his brothers were on their way. He prayed to God to keep the kid safe, and then he talked to his mother, and asked her to keep an eye on him until he could get there. He didn't feel any better after all the mental praying, but he remembered that Craig had said their mother had talked to him the last time, keeping his hopes up when he was being abused by Victor Sweet. He was confident that she would do the same this time.

"I'm gonna call Green and ask if they've got any more information." Jerry finally spoke up as eight o'clock neared. "He should have called by now."

"Yeah, you do that." Bobby agreed quietly. He winced slightly as he tried to adjust his position in the seat. His ribs were really starting to bother him. He had pushed the broken bones hard that night, but with the medication in his system he hadn't felt the results of it until now, with the meds wearing off quickly.

"You okay?" Jerry asked as he opened his phone.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Bobby nodded his head. "Just make the call." He didn't look over at Jerry; he didn't have to see his brother's face to know the man was giving him a frown.

"You need to let one of us drive so you can get some rest." Jerry started dialing the number for Green. "Let me make the call, and then we'll switch."

"I don't know Jerr', this ain't no Volvo, you know." Bobby tried to sound as if he was joking, but he really didn't want to let his brother drive. He was pushing the car pretty hard, and he wanted to keep it that way. They'd already made better time than he'd thought they would. He'd been mentally calculating the distance he figured they would have to travel, considering the time they'd been told Macks had left, and where he'd been when Winston had made the miracle call a little after six o'clock. If Macks was heading back, he'd had to have been driving like a bat out of hell to get the kid where ever he'd taken him. He'd been on his way back just four hours after leaving with him. He couldn't have been back on the road for long when Winston had reached him on the phone. Bobby was betting Craig was close to Columbus, praying he was close to Columbus really. The closer Craig was, the sooner he'd be able to get to him.

Jerry tried Green three times, but got no answer. He sighed as he gave up for the time being. He was about to put his phone away in his pocket when it rang. He looked at the caller ID and smiled. "Green," He answered the phone quickly. "Yeah, and?" He listened to the man speak, and grabbed the map, to locate an area. "That's west of Columbus." He commented. "Yeah, let me get an ink pen." He reached into his pocket for the ink pen he'd used to map out alternate routes on the map. "Okay." He turned on the interior light so that he could see the map better. "West of Columbus," He muttered while he ran his finger across the different lines stretching across the state of Ohio. He seemed to find what he was looking for and marked the map with the pen. "You mean there's more than one?" He sounded surprised. "Shit." He muttered and started looking for another area on the map. "Shit, that's east of Columbus." He muttered, as he made his mark. "This one is straight south." He shook his head as he made a third mark. "We can't narrow that down Green?" He asked. "We can't be in three fucking places at once, and we have no way of knowing which one." He sounded irritated. "Well, which one is a farm?" He pushed. "Shit." He looked at Bobby while he was listening. "Yeah, well, maybe Winston should try to call him again." He shook his head when Bobby flashed him a questioning glare. "Naw, man, ya' all make sure that you know where he's goin' though, and let us know." He hung up the phone.

"What?" Bobby could sense it wasn't good, whatever it was.

Jerry looked down at the map. "Macks has property all over the state of Ohio, left to him by his parents when they died. He could have Craig at a few different locations that are close to Columbus. Green thinks the best possibility is the one just west of the city, outside of a little town called West Jefferson. He said it's isolated, and abandoned. Apparently Macks tried to burn it down about a year ago to collect on some insurance money. The other places are secluded, they aren't in the best of shape, but Macks tends to lease them out from time to time. He doesn't know if any of them are occupied right now, he's looking into it. He's gonna have Winston call Macks again, see if he can get a fix on where he is, and he'll call us back." Jerry pointed to the mark on the map that he thought Craig would be.

"Okay, that's a good place to start." Bobby nodded his head.

Jerry looked at Bobby. "Why don't you let me drive for a while? You need to give your ribs a fucking break."

"I'm fine. I've got it." Bobby shook his head and gave the car a little more gas, speeding up a bit. The morning traffic was getting a little lighter, and he was sure that since he now had a final destination he could make much better time.

"Bobby, you ain't gonna do Craig any good if you get yourself wore down. Now let me drive." Jerry pushed.

"You ain't driving the fucking car Jerr'. No offence, but you wouldn't get above the speed limit." Bobby drew in a deep breath. "I'm fine. Besides, I trust my busted ribs more than that bump on your head. For all I know you got a concussion. I don't want you passing out behind the wheel."

"Then let Angel drive." Jerry suggested, knowing Bobby's exuse was nothing more than a line of bull.

"Yeah, right," Bobby laughed. "After he nearly ran me down the last time he was behind the fucking wheel? He has a fucking busted arm; you really think he needs to be driving?" He glanced over at Jerry, then back at Angel, who was lying back across the seat. "Besides, little brother seems to be catching up on his beauty sleep."

"That's exactly what you need to be doing." Jerry grumbled. "You got any of the pain pills the doctor gave you?" He asked.

Bobby looked at Jerry a little confused. "Pain pills?" He asked.

"Yeah, he gave you a pack of pills until you could get the prescription filled." Jerry spoke slowly, as if he were talking to a small child.

Bobby dug into his coat pocket with his left hand to pull out the crumbled papers from the hospital. He handed them to Jeremiah, who triumphantly held up the pack of pills. "Take these. They'll help with that pain."

"They'll slow me down." Bobby shook his head. "After we've got Craig, I'll take them." He agreed.

"Take half a dose then. But you can't take care of shit if you're hurting that bad Bobby, I can see the pain all over your face." Jerry pushed.

Bobby shook his head. "Not until I have that kid." He muttered.

* * *

Craig shivered from the cold. Bobby's image was still sitting on the floor on the other side of the room. "Bobby, I'm cold." He muttered, fighting off the temptation to lie down and let his mind drift off into the colors that kept spiraling around his brother's imaginary form.

"Yeah, it's cold in here." Bobby nodded his head. "Why don't you feel around and see if he left any kind of blanket for you?" He asked.

"He wouldn't leave anything like that." Craig felt new tears falling.

"Well look. Maybe he left your clothes in here; you can at least put them back on." Bobby stood and started walking around the dark abyss surrounding him.

Craig kept hold of his crackers and the bottle of water, and moved slowly, crawling along the edge of the wall, feeling around in the dirt. Bobby seemed to lead him along the cold wall, to the next corner, then to the next. He reached the door and stopped. He could feel the soft dirt give way under the door. He scooped a hand full out and realized he could actually remove the dirt, dig it out from under the heavy wooden barrier holding him inside that black hole. "Bobby?" He looked around in the dark, but Bobby was gone. "Bobby?" He called out louder than the first time. "Don't leave me!" He felt panic starting to rise inside of him and his tears increased.

"I'm right here." Bobby's voice came from the other side of the door.

"Come back." Craig begged. "Please? I can't stand it in here by myself." He could feel the choking sobs building in his chest.

"Dig." Bobby spoke calmly. "You can pull enough dirt out of there that you can make it under the door. Now start digging."

"I can't." Craig felt his fear building. "If he comes back and catches me he'll…"

"He can't do shit to you if you aren't here!" Bobby's voice came out sharp. "Now do what I fucking told you and start pulling that dirt out."

Craig sniffed back at the runny nose his tears were causing. He carefully put his crackers and water down next to the door before he cupped both hands and started scooping the soft dirt up, pulling it back away from the door and pushing it behind him. He'd worked on several scoops, before he realized Bobby had stopped talking to him. "Bobby, don't leave me." He muttered.

"I'm right here." Bobby's voice still seemed to be on the other side of the door. "You talk to me while you dig." His voice was back to being calm.

Craig pulled more dirt back, "About what?" He asked weakly.

"Tell me about your Dad. You always say you don't remember much about him, but you do, don't you?" Bobby asked.

Craig swallowed hard. "No." He denied, "I don't remember much about him."

"Stop fucking lying to me," Bobby's voice cried out in his head. "You remember every time he hurt you. You remember the night he killed your mother, and tried to kill you. You remember all of the times he handed you over to other people and let them hurt you. You remember the things he did to you. You can remember him holding you under the water, and locking you in the closet. You remember it all, and you always have. You have been lying to yourself, saying that you didn't remember. Pushing all of it to the back of your mind, and pretending that drawing it all down on paper got it out of your head, but it didn't work, did it? You gotta start facing the truth kid, or it's gonna end up killing you."

Craig stopped digging as the realization seemed to add weight to the dark around him, pushing it against him, and taking the air from his lungs. "No. I never forgot any of it." He shook his head slowly, pulling his hands back around his stomach and holding on hard, shivering from the cold. His mind ran all of the memories in front of him, all at once, and they seemed to fill the black void, blocking out any part of his made up version of Bobby that had been there. He thought about how easily his father was angered, and it hit him that if his father returned and caught him digging, that he'd make him regret trying to get away. He turned and started to push the dirt back into place as panic set in, again.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Bobby cried out, returning to block out his memories. "You gotta get your ass out of there Craig. You are going to die if you stay in there. Do you understand me?"

"He'll kill me if he catches me." Craig barely got the words out, but he stopped pushing the dirt back into its place.

"He's gonna kill you anyway." Bobby's voice seemed to be fading. "If you aren't going to at least fight to stay alive, then I can't stay here anymore Craig."

"Bobby, don't go." Craig barely got the words out.

"You gotta do this Craig, it's the only way you're gonna get out of that room alive. Now get your shit together and start digging." Bobby still sounded faint. "You can do this. You ran from him that night, when he tried to shoot you, didn't you? You can run now. He's no where around right now. You can run from this place and get away."

Craig swallowed hard and pulled the dirt back. He found his movements picking up speed as he fought down the panic inside of him. He stopped once, sure that he heard a sound above him, on the floor, but he waited in silence for a moment, and figured it was his imagination. He felt the hole to see how big it was, and tested the size by trying to fit his legs through. He realized it was deep enough, but he had to make it wider. He pulled his legs back and continued to dig. He talked to Bobby, telling him the things his father would do to him if he caught him. He knew what would happen if his father came back while he was digging. After some time his body seemed to lose all energy. He could feel sweat dripping down his forehead, but he was freezing. He sat back against the wall to rest for a few minutes.

"Don't stop kid. You're almost there." Bobby's voice rang out in his head.

"I'm tired." The boy reached up and felt at his aching head. "I don't feel too good Bobby." He held onto his stomach.

"You don't have time to get sick Craig. You don't have time to feel bad. You get your ass in gear and get to digging. You can get out of there, and find your clothes, and then get the fuck out of this place."

Craig swallowed hard, "Can I have some more water?" He asked weakly.

"One drink, but you have to save the rest." Bobby appeared above him again. He knelt down next to him and reached out to feel his forehead. "You don't have time to waist Craig. I'm sorry, but you gotta hurry."

Craig felt around in the dirt for the water. He took one quick drink and let the cool liquid ease the scratching that was trying to overtake his throat. He returned to digging, thankful that Bobby was back in the room with him, and not somewhere out of sight. He was quickly forgetting this version of Bobby wasn't real. He was depending on his presence to get him out of his prison, and somewhere safe. He was talking to him and asking him questions, and hearing his voice answer.

After what seemed hours the boy tried the hole again. His legs slid through, and he managed to wriggle his body on through, knocking over the boxes that had been stacked in front of the door, he reached back into the hole for his bottle of water and pack of crackers before pulling himself all of the way through.

He sat on the floor shivering, trying to make out some of the shadows around him. He tried to remember what direction the stairs were. He tried to stand on his feet, but his legs turned to rubber. He eased himself down to his knees and started crawling across the floor. He found the stairs and started crawling up, making his way slowly. The effort seemed to be taking all the strength he had. He felt his knees scraping against the rough wood beneath him, but he kept moving. He was almost to the top when he felt his pack of crackers slip from his hand. He stopped and listened to them hit the dirt below. He knew they were lost, he would never be able to find them in the dark, and he wasn't about to go back down the steps after them.

He reached the top, and could see the daylight peaking around the edges of the door. He listened to see if he could hear any sound before resting his head on the top landing and looking under the crack of the door. He could see Bobby's hockey jersey and his sweatpants left in a pile on the floor on the opposite wall. He stared at them for a long moment, waiting for any signs that someone was on the other side of the door. He pulled his body all the way onto the landing, and reached up to grab the knob. He would be able to get the clothes on, and get out of the shirt his father had put on him. He'd be able to get out of the house. He didn't know where he was, but he was sure he'd be able to find a phone somewhere, find a person to ask for help. Bobby was standing right there next to him, telling him to get the door opened and get the hell out of there.

He turned on the knob and pushed, but the door didn't budge. It was locked.


	45. Chapter 45

Legal statement still counts. :)

* * *

**Chapter 45: Out of the Frying Pan**

Craig felt his heart sink. He pushed on the door again, turning the knob both directions. He felt his throat swell and the tears ran hard. "Bobby, it's locked." He cried out.

"Push harder." Bobby spoke from next to him.

"It's locked!" Craig nearly screamed the words.

"Calm down." Bobby spoke in a quiet voice. "Feel around the door frame, how strong is it?"

Craig did what Bobby told him. He felt at the wood, it felt as if it could crumble under enough pressure, but it was still strong enough to hold him in. "What am I supposed to do? He's going to come back and catch me out." He cried as he let the gravity of his situation hit him. He couldn't find his way back to the room in the dark and get back inside, and even if he could he had knocked the boxes over and Adam would know he'd been out.

"You can't turn back now Craig. You've made it too far." Bobby spoke from next to him. "You put your back against this wall and you kick the shit out of that door. As hard as you can, right now, kick it until it opens."

"It won't work." Craig cried. "It won't open and Dad will come back and he'll be mad." He shook his head. "He gets crazy when he's mad." He did let his body fall back into the wall, and he dropped his water bottle onto the landing. He sniffed at his tears and wiped at his wet cheeks. "He's gonna kill me."

Bobby was quiet for a long time. Craig closed his eyes and thought about his brothers, and his mother, and how much he'd wanted to be a part of their family. He realized that he never should have expected that much out of his life. His father had taught him from the time he was old enough to understand, just what he was supposed to be, and how he was supposed to act. He wasn't a real person, he was Adam Macks' son, and that meant he wasn't a person at all, he was something for his father to control and punish, and own. He wasn't a person, he was an object, and he had made the mistake of thinking he could get past that. Evelyn Mercer had told him he could get past that, and that his father was wrong, that he was more than that, but she wasn't there anymore, and his father was, and he was going to make him hurt for trying to get away.

"What?" Bobby finally spoke. "What the hell is wrong with you? You're my brother, and that's all you need to remember right now. The rest of it is bullshit." He sounded pissed.

Craig wondered how Bobby had known what he was thinking, but then his drugged and hazy brain remembered this wasn't the real Bobby, this was his made up version of Bobby. He was stuck with Bobby because he couldn't bring an image of his mother. He couldn't remember her. She was fuzzy in his mind.

"Oh, hell, you remember her well enough. You just wanted me right now; because you know I can get you the fuck out of here. That's why you wanted me. I'm your fucking brother, and I will take care of you. You know that." Bobby shook his head. "Ma, hell, she would run her hand through your hair, and make you feel better, but I'll get your ass out of here." He stood above the boy and leaned back on the door. "Now you do what the fuck I told you to do. You put your feet on this door and your start kicking the fuck out of it, right now." He ordered.

Craig looked up at Bobby, and wiped at the tears again. He was getting tired of his mirage making remarks about his private thoughts. He adjusted his body, pressing his back into the wall, and planting his feet on the door, right on Bobby's knees. He pulled his feet back and then thrust them forward with as much strength as he could put into the muscles of his legs. They bounced back at him, without having any effect on the wooden door. He did it again, with the same results. "It's not going to work." He cried out.

"You need to get something to pry around the edges of the door. You can pry it loose." Bobby suggested. "It has enough give to it, you can pry the whole door over, and it will open."

"What?" Craig shook his head, the suggestion confusing his already rattled thought process.

"You have to go back down the stairs. I bet there's something down there that you can use." Bobby nodded his head. "Yeah, you go back down there, in the dark and start feeling around for something that will work."

"No, I can't go back down there." Craig shook his head. At least next to the door there was a little light making it through, he couldn't stand the thought of going back down into the dark nothingness below.

"Then you'd better fucking kick harder!" Bobby yelled at him. "You kick like a fucking girl."

Craig stared at the man; his words were pissing him off. "Shut up." He muttered.

"You can't kick worth shit. You kick like you're my little sister, and not my little brother. You want to show me you're a real boy then kick the fucking door like you have a purpose. Kick this fucker in!" Bobby was yelling at him steadily now. "The wood is rotted out, you can get this thing open, just kick, put some effort into it!"

"I said shut up!" Craig kicked at Bobby's knees as hard as he could. His brother continued yelling the insults at him, and he kicked again, and again, as hard as he could, aiming a little higher than Bobby's knees, trying to get him to stop yelling at him. He kicked nonstop, over and over and over.

The door popped open with a loud crash, flying back to bang against the plaster wall with the peeling patches of paper. The sudden light blinded the fourteen year old, and the door releasing under his kick had left his feet with nowhere to go but straight out to land on the floor with a hard thud.

"Well it's about fucking time." Bobby stood just on the other side of the door, his arms crossed at his chest. "That's what the hell a Mercer does Craig. A Mercer fights, no matter how hard something is, we keep fighting, and don't you ever forget that."

Craig's throat tickled at him, and he coughed hard, his chest aching from the effort. The coughing seemed to irritate his already aching head, and he reached up to hold onto it in an attempt to make it stop spinning around on him. He looked back up at Bobby, who was still surrounded in the multi colored patterns that his mind was creating, though it wasn't as vivid in the light as it had been in the dark. He snatched up his bottle of water and crawled into the room, making his way to his clothes on the floor against the opposite wall.

He looked up at Bobby while he sat down to slide into his sweat pants. He pulled at the dirt caked shirt his father had put on him, ripping at it until it came off, and he managed to pull on the jersey. He reached down to the hem of the jersey and located the spot he'd found comfort in rubbing between his fingers just hours before. He felt a sense of calm fill him on the inside. "How am I going to get out of here? I can't walk. My legs don't want to work." He muttered.

"Get on your feet; you have to at least try." Bobby walked towards the door on the other end of the room; the one Craig was sure led to the porch.

"I don't have any shoes." Craig felt more tears building up, and found he had to cough again.

"Why do you have to bring up all the shit that's wrong here?" Bobby asked. "You're out of the fucking basement. You've got the hard part over with, right? Now get your ass in gear and let's get moving."

Craig stared at Bobby. "You aren't going to leave me alone, are you? You're coming with me?" He asked.

"I'm coming for you Craig, don't give up on that. Until then, I'll be right here, for as long as you keep me here." Bobby pointed to the door next to him. "Now come on."

Craig used the wall next to him for support and forced his weak legs to raise him from the floor. He could feel them shaking under him, wanting to buckle. "I can't do this." He muttered.

"Don't say that, you just do it. Come on." Bobby pushed him. "Don't make me start calling you names again."

Craig forced his legs to move, and made his way slowly to the door. He stared at the knob for a long moment. "What if this one is locked?" He asked.

Bobby laughed and pointed to the lock, on the inside of the door. "Then unlock it."

Craig laughed at his own worry and reached out to pull the door open. The sound of an approaching car engine alerted him that someone was there, before he had the chance to pull the door open. "Bobby?"" He looked up at the image of his brother.

"Go, the other way." Bobby moved through the room to go into the next room. Craig followed, his weak legs struggling, but his fear of his father coming through the door seemed to give him the strength he needed to get to the next room. He followed Bobby's image on through to what would have been the front room as one time, with a charred and rotten staircase that led up to the second floor. He didn't want to go up the stairs. What if he was found up there? Bobby was going up the stairs through. He looked at the door at the front of the room, and didn't understand why he couldn't go out the door.

"He's going to be expecting you to be out there. He'll come after you and he'll catch you, you can't move fast enough. You come with me. You come up here, and hide. He's not going to look up here for you." Bobby called from above him.

Craig could hear the sound of car doors slamming closed, and he moved as quickly as he could, making his way up the stairs. The second floor was mostly a burnt and blackened shell of a house. The floors were solid, or so it seemed, but one end of the house had no walls at all, and the cold wind was howling through the skeletal remains. Craig moved to the end of the hall, where there seemed to be rooms still intact and found one with an old bed and a dresser, though the furniture was yellowed and the stench from the smoke and flames that had over taken the house was still strong. There was also a closet. He cringed inside when Bobby appeared next to the closet and pointed at it. "Get in."

Craig shook his head slowly. "Please Bobby, not in there." He barely got the words out.

"Yes, in there. Come on." Bobby motioned for him to open the door.

Craig shuffled his feet over to the closet and pulled on the handle slowly. He was surprised to find clothes still hanging there. Long sleeve shirts and pants. They were yellowed, as was the rest of the room, but they were clothes, and at that moment, they could provide some warmth from the bitter cold that was quickly penetrating every bone in his body. He stepped into the closet and pulled clothes down, dropping them in a pile on the floor before closing the door after him and easing himself down into the makeshift bedding.

His chest constricted and he wanted to cough again, but he held it in. He could hear movement below him now, and he couldn't risk anyone hearing him.

He was waiting to hear his father's yells from below. He knew that his father was going to go into one of his rages once he found he was out of the basement. He would know as soon as he walked into the room that he had broken free. He would see the basement door standing open, and would have to know. The yell never came though. He listened, and was sure that he heard voices, quiet, and distant. He felt his body starting to warm up a little, with his own clothes on, and the clothes from the closet under him. He reached around in the dark closet, finding some of the clothing, and pulling it up around him.

He looked at Bobby, who was sitting cross legged on the other side of the closet. He felt his eyes growing heavy, and let them slide close as a sense of warmth seemed to fill him. He felt his chest wheeze as he sucked in a deep breath, and he rested his head back against the wall. "What if that isn't him?" Craig asked as he listened to the voices. "What if that's you?" He looked at the imaginary Bobby sitting across from him, though his eyes were still closed. "Will you find me?"

"Of course I will." Bobby smiled at him.

Craig nodded his head slowly and let his mind drift, exhaustion tugging at his brain. He could see the colors again, but they didn't seem as strong as before, and they weren't swirling around him. He felt his body relax and was soon floating into a calm sleep.

* * *

Adam Macks answered the call from Jessup Winston, using all his inner strength to hold in his anger. Yeah, he already knew the son of a bitch had given him over to the police. Higgins had told him what he'd needed to know, but now he wanted to see what the hell Winston was gonna try. "Yeah, what the hell do you want?"

Curiosity had always been one of his weaknesses. He liked to know shit. It had gotten him where he was now, holding Victor Sweet's money, and his property. He'd been curious and had found answers to the questions that mattered. Like, how the hell does a man get so many contacts in high places? Yeah, he blackmailed people; he paid them off and got them in his pocket. He just had to find out what the hell it was that Sweet had on these people, and use it to his advantage, and he had done that.

He was in the same position as Victor Sweet had been, but he was smarter than that arrogant ass hole. He was powerful, and no one was going to stop him, not Winston, not the detective that Winston was feeding his information to, and not the Mercers. Hell, least of all the Mercers. He had his son back, and he'd kill the kid before he let anyone else take him away from him again.

"You called me, what did you want?" Winston spoke his question harshly. "I don't have time for your games Adam."

"Oh, I wanted to know where the hell you wanted to meet up with me." Macks grinned. "I should be hitting the city in about half an hour."

"What about your place? That warehouse?" Winston asked.

"Sure, that sounds good. Be there in an hour?" Macks looked the signs lining the interstate, letting him know where they were, and how much longer it was going to be before he they got back to the exit they would need to get to the house.

"Okay, then I'll be there in an hour." Winston went on to talk about some cop, the detective talking to him, and telling him a bunch of bullshit. Macks knew it was bullshit, but he played along with it. Let Winston play his games, he had a few games of his own that he could play.

"What about the Mercers?" Macks asked.

"I don't know about them. I haven't seen them since they busted my teeth out of my mouth." Winston spoke angrily. "I do know that they won't stop until they find you though Macks, so you'd better be watching your ass."

Macks laughed. "Hell, they can look for me all they want. They will never find me. You have no idea how easy it would be for me to disappear right now Jessup. I'm good at disappearing."

"Then maybe you'd better consider doing that. I want my fucking pay off before you do though. Don't make me come hunting your ass down Macks, I won't be as friendly as the Mercers. I'm just a little pissed at you right now." Jessup threatened.

Macks laughed. "We are partners, partner. Remember?" He sighed loudly. "You be there in an hour." He hung up the phone before Winston could say anything else. He looked at Jordan and shook his head.

He couldn't believe he was stuck with a wiener like Jordan. The man was the only one who seemed to be able to do what the fuck he wanted him to without any arguing. He talked about not wanting to be there, but he was getting a thrill out of it, Macks could tell. The man had lived such a dull and boring life for so long, he'd been fighting down what he really was, trying to live a normal, straight life with a wife and kids, but here he was, delving right into the excitement. He laughed slightly, yep, he was stuck with the bastard, until he could get the kid and take off. He couldn't take Jordan with him, he'd have to leave him on the side of the road somewhere, and he wouldn't be able to leave him alive either.

* * *

"Jack Mercer, I thought we'd seen the last of you." Sarah, the cute nurse Bobby had found so interesting, stood next to the young man's bed, smiling down at him. "You look like shit Jack."

Jack forced a small grin as he woke completely from his sleep. "Yeah, well I feel much worse than I look." He reached up and scratched at an itch on his chin, and then let out a yawn. "How long have I been out?"

"Well, you came out of surgery about twelve thirty, and you've been out since. You're actually very lucky." Sarah gave him a curious gaze. "Your tube was pulled out pretty clean, and the bleeding wasn't that bad."

Jack felt around his chest for the tube, but couldn't locate it. "They didn't put it back?" He sounded confused.

"No, the doctor believes you will be fine without it, but he wants you to continue your breathing treatments. You have been keeping up with those at home, haven't you?" Sarah took hold of Jack's left arm and prepared it for taking his blood pressure.

Jack could feel his face flush. "Well, kind of." He gave his shoulders a slight shrug. "But, I will make sure I do better." He gave the nurse a shy smile.

"Good. I'd hate to see you back in here with pneumonia." Sarah flashed a smile, but it seemed to hold a scold behind it. "Sofi and Camille are both here; they just went down to get some coffee." She announced as she worked. "You should be out of here by noon."

"Have any of my brothers called?" Jack asked quickly, wanting to know what was going on, and not wanting to wait for Sofi and Camille to return to find out.

"No, they haven't but I'm sure they will. Lord knows they can't give you a moment's peace when you're in here." Sarah was teasing, but she was right, the last time Jack had been in that hospital there had been a brother in his room continuously.

"Where is my cell phone?" Jack asked.

"I don't think it's here." Sarah continued her examination and wrote on Jack's chart. "There is such a thing as a regular telephone. I know it's a bit outdated, but it does work. It has push buttons and all." She gathered her supplies and headed for the door while she pointed to the phone sitting on the stand next to Jack's bed.

Jack sighed and reached for the phone. Now, if he could just remember Jerry or Angel's cell phone number he'd be all set. It wasn't as if he'd ever had to really think about the number before, since they'd been programmed into his phone already. He was racking his brain, staring at the numbers on the phone when a sound from the door drew his attention. He looked up to see Officer Higgins standing there, looking at him with a smile on his face.

"Mr. Mercer, I need to ask you a few questions; that is if you feel up to it." Higgins spoke the words in a pleasant tone, but the sound of his voice made Jack feel nauseous.

"Officer Higgins, I don't believe I will ever feel well enough to talk to you. When I feel up to it, I'll talk to Green." Jack couldn't keep the loathing out of his voice. "I think you should leave, now." He carefully set the phone back down.

Higgins took another step into the room. "I really need to ask you some questions Mr. Mercer. I need to know how to get in touch with your brothers, I have some information that I need to get to them, immediately." His voice sounded threatening, and Jack could feel the chills running down his spine.

"Jack, you're awake." Camille walked into the room, pushing her way past Higgins. Sofi followed, giving the uniform blocking her way a close look from head to toe before moving past the man.

"Do we need to leave?" Sofi looked at Jack while pointing towards Higgins.

"No, he was just leaving." Jack kept his tone even, and his stare fixed on the son of a bitch standing in the doorway. "This is Officer Higgins. The same friendly cop who tried to tell Craig he was going to have him taken away from his family."

Sofi spun around to look at the man, and Camille carefully set her cup down on the stand next to Jack's bed before turning to the man herself. "You did what? You are supposed to be an officer of the law. You told a little boy who was already scared that you were going to take him away from the only family he's ever known?" Once she was started, there was no stopping her. Jack laughed at the sight of Camille and Sofi both moving in on the man, backing him out the door, and he could still hear them going at him down the hallway, Sofi's Spanish mixed in with Camille's barrage of words.

Jack sighed. "Well, maybe I should call Green." He muttered to himself as he picked up the phone again and started dialing the number for the police department. That was one number he did remember.


	46. Chapter 46

Thanks for the reviews, it's appreciated! Keep letting me know your thoughts :)

Legal statement still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 46: Into the Fire**

Jerry answered his cell phone as the car neared the town limits of West Jefferson, Ohio. "Green, what's goin' on man?" He seemed happy to get the call. Maybe there was some good news from the Detective.

"We just got done tracing another call from Macks." Green announced on the other end of the phone. "He's headed back your way Jerry. He's probably not too far behind you."

"What?" Jerry cried out and looked at Bobby, whose attention had been drawn to him now. "Mack's is coming back this way." He spoke to Bobby, and then returned to his conversation with Green. "Why? What the hell tipped him off?" He asked the detective.

"We don't know, but Winston called him as soon as we had the equipment ready. He made like he was back in the city, and when we got his location pin pointed he was no more than thirty minutes behind you, maybe less, so keep an eye out for him." Green sounded worried.

"What else is goin' on?" Jerry could hear that Green had more to say, just by the tone in his voice.

"Jack called, wanted to tell me about a visit he had." Green's voice sounded tight and strained, even over the phone.

"What kind of visit?" Jerry pushed.

"Higgins showed up, wanting to know where the hell you three were, claimed he had some information for you." Green sighed loud enough for Jerry to hear him. "I think he's working with Macks, and was sent there to try to pinpoint your location. He might be suspecting you're close." He was only guessing at Higgins intent, that was obvious, but it was a caution worth taking.

Jerry nodded his head. "We'll make sure to keep that in mind." He glanced at Bobby who wanted to know what the hell was going on, but he wanted to make sure he knew all of the facts before he passed any more information on. "How is Jack doing? Did he say?"

"He's worried as hell about you boys, and I can't say he's alone in that. He's supposed to be getting out of the hospital by noon, according to him. I'm going to make sure there's an officer escorting him home, just to be on the safe side." Green hesitated for a long moment. "You guys should go to the local police, let them know what the hell you're doing. I can give them a call and fax them all the information about the case. They need to know what the hell is going on in their back yard."

"Yeah, well, don't expect us to drop in and visit with them. You want to give them a call, that's up to you." Jerry listened to Green's warnings, but ignored the irritation in his voice. Despite Green's objections to the choices the Mercers were making, he tried to give Jerry some general directions to the property where they suspected Macks was holding their brother. He was going off a map, but the directions weren't that great, with some of the roads not named.

When Jerry got off the phone he relayed everything Green had shared with him to Bobby and Angel.

Bobby grumbled under his breath as he drove the car into the small town. "Fucker could know we're here." He shook his head. "Shit. We ain't got any time here. We gotta find that damn house."

"We need gas, so stop at the first station you see. I'll use my card to get some gas, and I'll get us some coffee and ask some questions. I'm sure if Macks tried to burn this place the whole town knows about it, and where it is. Small towns like this, things like that are a big deal." Jerry smiled at Bobby.

Bobby turned the car into the only gas station in the small town. "I don't believe people can actually live in a town this fucking small." He muttered while Jeremiah pulled out his credit card and then got out of the car to pump some gas. "Just hurry the fuck up Jerry, this place gives me the creeps." Okay, that might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but he really didn't feel comfortable in a town that only had one gas station, at least it was the only one he'd seen, and it wasn't as if there was a lot of the town for another station to be located in.

The upside to the small town thing was that someone might know where in the hell this half burned dump of a house was located. Green had given them an address, and he'd even told them a general location, but they needed detailed directions, or a local map with the back roads marked out. That was Jerry's mission right now, pump the gas and then go in and ask about the house and get another map.

Angel sat up in his seat and looked around. "Hell, this wouldn't be so bad. No fucking gangs running the streets, no organized crime for the teenagers to get involved with. It's quiet, it's peaceful." He nodded his head. "I could live in a town like this."

Bobby snickered at the thought. "Yeah, right, you live in a town like this? That could never happen. I think there's only one bar in this town, and they wouldn't take kindly to your games. Hell, you'd never make any money here."

"Who says I'd be running any con games. I got skills other than that you know. I can cook. I could open my own restaurant." Angel spoke quietly while he was still looking around at his surroundings.

"Hell, you can shoot too, you gonna shoot your own meat for the menu?" Bobby laughed at his joke, though it was more his nerves than true amusement.

"Fuck you. I do shoot well, I could be a cop. Or, a private investigator, yeah, I'd be good at that." Angel nodded his head, with a hint of a smile on his face, giving away the fact that he was thinking about that possibility, "Yeah, Angel Mercer, Private Eye."

Bobby laughed again. "Yeah, I can see it now, a restaurant in the front, a private 'dick' office in the back. Hell, Sofi would sure go for that, now wouldn't she?"

"Shut the fuck up Bobby, it ain't no joke, it's actually serious." Angel reached up and smacked the back of Bobby's head.

Bobby's laughing stopped instantly and he turned to look at Angel. "You don't smack me in the head." He pointed his finger at Angel. "That's my fucking job, smacking the back of your head."

Angel laughed at the fact that all he had to do was sit back in his seat and Bobby couldn't reach him to retaliate.

Bobby was turned in his seat, reaching as far as he could into the back of the car, despite his aching ribs, when his eyes fell on a gold van, driving up the street, past the gas station. "Shit! That's the fucking van!" He yelled the word and turned back to grab the steering wheel. "Jerry, hurry the fuck up! Hurry up!" His heart started pounding hard, trying to beat its way out of his chest.

Jerry was still pumping the gas, and looked into the window as if he was surprised by Bobby's sudden need to urgency. "What the fuck?" He asked when Bobby roled the window of the car down.

"I just saw the fucking van; hurry the hell up before they get out of sight!" Bobby spoke through the window.

Jerry stopped pumping and hung the nozzle back in its place, pressing a button on the pump and getting his receipt. He stuffed both the receipt and credit card into his pants pocket while he ran back around the car and got in.

Angel had his body twisted, straining to look down the street. "They're stopped at a red light, I think." He announced as Jerry slammed his door shut.

"I didn't think they'd be that close behind us!" Jerry cried out, pulling on his seat belt.

"Maybe our luck is changing for the better; all we've gotta do is follow the bitch." Bobby started the car and weaved it through the gas pumps to the street. He pulled out, hitting the gas hard, despite the car that was coming up the street. The other car sounded his horn and hit its breaks.

"Bobby, watch what the fuck you're doing!" Jerry cried out once they were heading down the street.

"I ain't gonna lose them. They're gonna lead us right to Craig." Bobby muttered under his breath. He could see the traffic light ahead had turned green, and the van was moving on ahead. There were three other cars between them. Bobby could feel his heart pounding, and he wasn't able to ease his grip on the steering wheel, despite the fact that his knuckles were turning white. He had to be careful; this wasn't like in the city. The streets were practically empty; there wasn't any traffic to hide in while following the van. He had to make sure he hung back enough that Macks wouldn't see them.

His only comfort was the knowledge that Macks wouldn't know the car. He would still be cautious of being followed though, and if he got too close Macks would be able to see their faces. That would be the worst thing. He had to stay far enough back that the man wouldn't be able to ID them, or suspect that they were being followed, but still be able to keep an eye on the van, and know where the hell it was heading.

* * *

Macks sat back in his seat, relaxing for the first time since they'd loft the burned out house in the early morning hours. They were back in his home town, back to his world, really. He didn't have anything to worry about. He would be able to get back to the house, have a little time to spend with his son before grabbing some sleep, and then he would stash the kid in the back of the van, just like before, and they could head out, to Indiana, or maybe Illinois. It was going to screw up his plans for getting the kid on the market in the Columbus area, but hell, he'd just take advantage of the extra time he'd have to drug him into obedience. He would have that kid begging for it, and liking it, by the end of the week. He smiled to himself at the thought of all the money he was going to be able to pull in.

Jordan had been fairly quiet the last half of the drive. He'd just sat behind the wheel, shaking his head from time to time, but not saying a word. They had made one stop at a fast food restaurant to pick up some breakfast to eat on the road. Macks wasn't feeling any real urgency for speed by then. He figured the Mercers and the cops were looking for him around Detroit now. Hell, how were they gonna know that he wasn't in the city? They were getting their information from Winston, they had no way of knowing that he'd caught onto their game, and had turned around and was heading back. By the time they figured out just where the hell he might be he'd already be long gone. There was no reason to rush, he had time. He already had enough distance between him and the people that could cause him any misery.

Jordan shook his head again, and looked in the rearview mirror. "I think that car is following us." He muttered.

Macks laughed and turned to glance through the rear window of the van at a red compact. "Hell, you're paranoid. That's a fucking teenage girl." He turned back to face the front of the van as Jordan came to stop at the light in the middle of town.

Jordan reached up and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I guess I might be a little too jumpy." He drew in a deep breath.

If either man had turned around or looked in the mirror at that moment they would have seen the shiny black Cutlass pulling out of the gas station, cutting off another car, and heading their way. The Cutlass followed them three cars back as they eased through the light and drove on through the small town at the designated speed limit.

Macks didn't mention the speed at which Jordan chose to drive. He felt that it was probably best, considering the local police liked to pull drivers over for going just a few miles over the speed limit in town. The man looked at the fast food back sitting on the console between the seats. "You gonna eat that other sandwich?" He asked Jordan.

Jordan glanced at Macks. "That's for the kid. You know he's got to be starving."

Macks laughed while he picked up the back. "The kid ain't gonna get this. He eats only what I say, when I say. He damn sure ain't gonna get something like this." He opened the back and pulled out the sausage sandwich."

"You can't starve him." Jordan sounded surprised by the man's words.

"Oh, yes I can. He listens better that way. Besides, I left him some crackers." He un-wrapped the sandwich and took a big bite. "He only gets his treats after he's performed well. That is how it is. That's how it always is. We don't want him getting fat now, do we?" He chewed slowly. "I'll tell you what; I'll save him a bite." He looked over at Jordan, who was giving him a dirty look. "He's my kid Jordan. I say what I can and can't do with him. I know what the fuck I'm doing. I know what it takes to keep control of him. You just let me take care of him my own way."

Jordan drew in a deep breath and glanced back in the mirror as they neared the other end of town. "I think that car is following us." He muttered.

Macks laughed again. "Shit, you are too fucking good to be true. We are not being followed." He didn't bother to look back at the car Jordan was referring to this time. He didn't see any reason to bother.

Jordan turned the van left onto the first road outside of town, and picked up a little speed. He looked back in the mirror again. "They turned. I'm telling you that car is following us." He kept his voice even and calm, but gave the van a little more speed.

Macks sighed, wrapping what was left of the sandwich back up and dropping it into the bag. He turned and looked at the black car that was turning onto the road. The car didn't seem to be in too much of a hurry, letting the van get some distance between them. "I don't think so Jordan." He shook his head. "But if you would feel better, make a turn at the next road. Avoid heading to the farm until we lose them." He turned back in his seat and rolled down his window, reaching out to adjust the mirror so that he could see the road behind them and keep an eye on the car himself. He wasn't worried, but it was best not to let anyone see exactly where they were going.

Jordan slowed down for the next cross road.

"Turn right." Macks ordered.

Jordan followed his command, turning the van and heading up the road a little faster than was probably necessary.

Macks watched as the car came to the intersection and made the same turn, staying behind them. He still didn't let his nerves get worked up. He couldn't lose his temper right then. That could have been a coincidence. He sighed and instructed Jordan to turn left at the next road.

Jordan did what he was told without question. Damn, that was what Macks liked about this man, he listened, and the arguing was kept to a minimal. He was gonna hate to kill this man, he really was. He watched the intersection in the mirror. Jordan was putting a good bit of distance between them and the cross roads behind them. He still hadn't seen the car reach the intersection by the time they reached a rise in the road, descended the other side, loosing site of it all together. "Okay, there's a gravel lane up here, it leads into some woods. Pull into it." Mack's ordered. Hell, if the car was still following them, they would see it drive past and then give it some time before heading back out onto the road.

Jordan found the turn off and pulled the van onto the gravel. He drove into the cover of the heavy growth of brush and trees, turning the van halfway so they could see the road through the opening of the trees.

Macks was surprised when he seen the car drive by. He'd been pretty sure that the tail was just Jordan's imagination. Hell, he was still pretty sure that it was his imagination, but he didn't want to chance anyone seeing them going to the house. It was supposed to be abandoned, and he wanted to draw as little attention to himself as possible.

"Okay, we wait here for twenty minutes. Let's see if they come back by." Macks spoke quietly.

The minutes ticked by slowly. There were a couple of other cars that went past, but none of them were black. Macks hadn't gotten a very good look at the car; he only knew that it had been black. His mind tried to stir around some worry; hell, Jordan's paranoia was contagious. He was wondering if the Mercers had caught up with him. He shook that thought out of his head; Higgins would have called him if that was the case. He'd sent Higgins to find out what he could about what was going on with the Mercers, and the man had yet to call back and report, but he would have called if there had been any big news, like the Mercers knew where he was and were heading that way.

Jordan looked at his watch nearly once every minute. The car never came back their way. After nineteen minutes Macks looked at Jordan. "Hell, let's get the hell out of here."

"It hasn't been twenty minutes yet." Jordan shook his head.

"Just fucking drive, Jesus, I can't believe you're gonna gripe about one minute." Mack scolded.

Jordan put the van in gear and eased it back to the road. Both men looked both directions before Jordan drove out of the shelter of the trees, and heading back up the road in the same direction they had come.

* * *

Craig was drifting into a peaceful sleep, warmed by the clothing under him and covering him, despite the stench that had been smoked into the material. He could have gone to sleep for hours if Bobby's image hadn't reached out to smack his arm.

"You stay awake." Bobby snapped at him, not bothering to whisper.

Craig opened his eyes in the dark closet and found that he had slid down to rest his head on the floor. "I'm tired." He barely got the words out.

"You need to pay attention. You haven't heard your father yet, have you? He's not here." Bobby's voice was loud in his head.

Craig held his breath, straining to listen for any noise in the house. He could hear voices below him, with his ear to the floor; he could hear them quite clear. "That's not Dad." He muttered, sure that he heard a woman's voice below him. He realized he was directly over the room that his father had called the dining room. "There's a girl."

"Come on, get your ass out of here, get downstairs, they can help you." Bobby spoke quickly, pounding on the closed closet door.

Craig sat up, reaching for the knob and pushing the closet door open. The freezing air seemed to hit him like a brick wall. He crawled across the floor, not sure that he could handle walking the distance back down the stairs. He could hear Bobby telling him he needed to hurry, and he really wished his brother would stop, he already knew he needed to hurry. He reached the door leading into the unstable hallway, and Bobby's voice in his head told him to get on his fucking feet; it was too dangerous to try to walk. He used the wall for support, pulling himself up to his feet and then had to give his weak and shaky legs a chance to adjust to his weight.

The voices below sounded cheerful and welcoming. Probably a couple out for a good time, thinking an abandoned house, half burned would be a safe place to make out for a while. Craig managed to reach the top of the stairs. He managed to call out, "Hey!" He knew it wasn't at loud as it needed to be, but his throat was cracking and dry. He managed to suck in as deep a breath as his aching chest would allow him to, the cold air not helping his congested lungs, "Help!" He managed to get the yell out at a level he was sure could be heard. The voices below stopped, and he could hear footsteps heading towards the stairs as he made his way down them slowly.

A young man, no older than Jack appeared below the boy, and then a girl, who seemed to be pulling her blouse closed appeared next to him.

"Oh my God!" The girl cried out when she seen the boy on the stairs.

At that moment a gun blast echoed through the house, the girls head exploded and Craig felt his whole world close in around him. The sound of a second gunshot filled the air, but it sounded distant to him, as the young man's chest erupted in a mixture of blood and bone, his body thrown against the wall at the end of the tunnel Craig's mind was forming around his vision.

The boy tried to turn to go back up the stairs, not sure of where he was going to, but feeling the need to try to run. He could hear his father's yells; he could feel his legs being grabbed from below, and his body being pulled hard, back down the steps. His ears started ringing, his vision was quickly filling with stars, and his mind trying to close down on him, trying to hide in that haze that had always been a protection to him before. Where the hell was Bobby?


	47. Chapter 47

Well, it does look like this one is going to go past 50 chapters, sorry. I did want to get it completed at around 50 :) But let me know what you think, and as always, thanks for reading!

Please keep hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times while it is moving....

Oops, I mean, I don't own, and I make no money!:)

* * *

**Chapter 47: Caught**

Craig's already weak legs were pulled out from under him, sending him downward, landing on the stairs, on his stomach. The grip around each ankle was firm, and pulling him downward. He hit each step hard, one at a time, each impact drove the edge of the next stair into his ribs and stomach as he was jerked downward. His head spinning from the pain the movement caused, from the sight that had been before him just seconds before, and from the vivid memory of his mother being shot in just the same way that young girl had been.

He felt his hands clawing for something to grab hold of, though he wasn't consciously trying to struggle against his father. It was instinct that caused his fingers to latch onto what was left of the banister that was just within reach. His fingers caught it, his hands gripped it, and he pulled back towards it, against his father, against the fate that was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

Adam's voice echoed through the house in the form of ear piercing yells; pure rage was filling the air, and his act of trying to pull away from the man only fueled that rage. His legs were jerked on a few more times, but he clung to the railing, pulled back against his father's hold, and even tried to kick his legs out of the man's grip.

"You do not fight me!" Adam stopped pulling on him, and his boots hit each stair hard until he had a foot planted firmly on each side of the boy's torso. His hands reached down, grabbed hold of Craig's wrists, and pried his hands free from the railing. Craig felt both arms being pulled behind his back, twisting painfully against his elbows, and they were held there with one of his father's hands. Adam's free arm snaked around his throat, raising him up from the stairs with a choking hold, until he was pressing back into the man's chest.

Craig struggled to get his feet under him, but he couldn't find any footing, he was being held too far up off of the stairs. Next he tried to kick at the man with his legs, but it was useless. He felt himself being dragged downwards, towards the two bleeding, dead bodies, towards the pain his father was going to unleash on him. He squeezed his eyes closed, afraid of looking at the sight laid out on th floor that he was being dragged down towards. Though the view around him was hazy and dark, and the stars were dancing in a dizzying swirl, stirring up the colors in front of him that had been fading, he still couldn't chance actually seeing the bodies of the two people who might still be alive if he'd just stayed in the basement.

He never should have left the basement room. He never should have thought his father would really leave him there for two days. He should have known the man would trick him and come back sooner than he'd said he would. Of course for all he knew he had been down in that dark, cold basement for two days, but he didn't really think it had been that long. Bobby's mirage had kept him company, but he'd had enough sense of where he was and what was going on be sure that he hadn't been left there that long. If he hadn't listened to his imaginary version of Bobby the two teenagers would have still been alive, and breathing. He should have listened to his own fears. He knew what his father was like. He'd known that if he were to get caught that he'd be beaten, or shot, or his head would be held under water until he had no choice but to breathe in the liquid, filling his lungs and drowning. Unless his father did as he'd always done when he was little and pulled him back out of the water just in time to cough up the death in his lungs.

His mind was latching onto random thoughts, blocking out what was inevitably coming. He felt his father tossing him, and he hit the hard wooden floor with a force that drove the air from his lungs. He gasped, trying to suck in air, trying to get his lungs to react to the mental command of moving, and remembering the feeling of the water in his lungs; it was so close to what he felt at that moment. His lungs were struggling to obey, but nothing was happening. He felt hands grabbing at the back of his head, gripping his hair, and he was pulled up onto his knees, his head jerked back hard so that he had to look at his father, who had his face directly in front of him.

"You don't fight me." The man's yellow teeth were grinding together, and the stench of stale cigarettes and left over food washed over the boy as his lungs decided at that moment to suck in the much needed breath of air.

"What are you doing out of your room?" The man growled at him, spittle spraying the boy's face as he spoke.

Craig didn't try to answer; it wasn't a question he could answer. Adam Macks knew why he was out of that room, out of the basement. He knew he was trying to get away from him. He didn't have to say it.

Adam's mouth twisted into a wicked grin. "Well, it looks like you found some new friends here." He jerked the boy's head around to take in the bloody scene next to him. He was close to the pooling blood, and the smell was filling the room quickly. "You see what happens when you don't listen to me?" Adam's voice rose to a yell again. "People die because of you! All you had to do was stay in the fucking room! You couldn't do that, could you?"

"I'm sorry." Craig heard himself saying the words, more to the dead couple than to his father, but the man didn't take it that way.

"You're sorry?" Adam yelled. "Sorry don't change the fact that you disobeyed me!" He pulled the boy back to look at him. "You need to get out of those clothes, right now." He ordered, still holding on as hard as before. "You get the pants off."

Craig felt tears falling down his cheeks as he reached down with his hands and started to struggle with the sweatpants, terrified of what his father was going to do next.

"You aren't crying are you? You know what I do to cry babies, and you won't like it." Adam reached down with his free hand and slapped the side of the boy's face hard enough to snap his head to one side. Craig felt the stinging in his face, and the pressure against the hold his father had on his hair. His hands fell to his side in that moment of pain.

"Get to the pants. It's time you were reminded who you belong to, and what's expected of you." Adam's hand came back for a second strike, landing across Craig's mouth, splitting his bottom lip.

Craig reached back to the waistband of the sweatpants and started pulling them down. He got them as far as he knees when Adam reached down and grabbed the material, jerking the boy's legs out from under him. He let him land on his back on the floor, and then finished the job of stripping the sweats completely off of him.

Craig could barely make out Adam's movements as his hand disappeared behind his back for a short moment, and then returned holding onto something shiny and long. His brain registered the glinting blade of a knife, and every muscle in his body froze stiff, even his breathing ceased as Adam held the blade up where he could see it clearly. Craig's mind was screaming out for Bobby, but at the same time he was coming to accept the fact that his brother wasn't coming. None of them were coming. His father had told him they didn't want him, and deep down it seemed the fear that he'd been struggling with most of his life seemed to be coming true in every way. His brothers were leaving him to his father, and his father was about to kill him. His brothers didn't care, they weren't there to stop it. He was going to have to give in and let his father win. He'd have to give his soul up to this man or he would die.

* * *

Bobby pounded on the steering wheel, hard. "Where in the fuck did he go?" He yelled the words. "We only lost sight of him for a second." He shook his head and drove to the next intersection, "Fucking hick town, out in the middle of nowhere country roads, no good for a damn thing! He made us! How the hell did he know?"

"Bobby, calm down, just calm down." Jerry held his hand up and twisted around in his seat. "He must have pulled off and waited for us to go by. Turn around and go back. Go slow." He turned back to Bobby.

Bobby checked for traffic at the stop sign before pulling a u-turn in the intersection. He knew where it was that he'd lost sight of the van, and he had to make sure that he didn't go all the way down the road.

"What the fuck is that?" Angel spoke up only a few minutes after the turn around.

"What?" Bobby asked loudly.

"There, it's a fucking drive back into those trees." Angel pointed up the road nearly fifty yards.

"Fuck." Bobby hit the break and looked around at the bare fields that surrounded them, "Any cars behind us?" He asked, though he had the gear shifted into reverse before he got his answer. He drove in reverse back past the stop sign and then turned onto the next road, but only far enough to pull into the open field.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jerry cried out as the car rocked them wildly.

"He's watching the fucking road, not the field." Bobby answered.

"You don't even know if he's in those trees." Jerry scowled at the man.

"I'd lay money on it." Angel spoke loud enough to be heard over the car's rocky ride through the uneven snow covered dirt.

Bobby carefully directed the car in between two dips in the terrain, and shoved the gearshift into park. "We wait and see." He muttered. The turn off was in view, but the small valley he'd managed to drive into would hide the car from view of the road. He opened his door and got out, lying against the incline of the hill facing the trees so that he could watch for the van. He was sure that any minute the gold van would emerge to lead him to Craig.

After a couple of minutes Angel joined Bobby on his right side. "You really think they're there?" He asked.

Bobby opened his mouth to answer, but Jerry dropped down on his left side.

"They could have turned into another drive somewhere." Jerry commented.

"No, I know how far ahead of us they were, and I know where we were when I lost sight of them. They had just gone over that first rise." Bobby pointed way up the road to the hill he was referring to. "They gotta be there. It's the only place. I keep my eyes open when I'm following someone, I watch for places they can turn off into, I missed this one because it has so many trees around it, but there's no other trees, look, it's all fucking fields." Bobby's words formed puffs of steam in the cold air as he spoke.

The three men remained in their spot, motionless in the blood chilling air. Snowflakes started to drop around them, but they were small, and weren't going to amount to much more than a sprinkling. The shower of snow didn't even last a full five minutes, and when it was over the air seemed to have more of a bite to it.

"Man, I just thought of something." Angel spoke quietly.

Bobby and Jerry both looked at the younger brother. "What?" Bobby asked.

"That ass hole left Craig somewhere out in the fucking cold. He's in a place that ain't got no heat, no water. Christ, the kid…" Angel looked at the expression forming on Bobby's face and stopped. "I didn't mean, I mean, I was just…" He drew in a deep breath. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Bobby stared at Angel for a long moment. "Don't think I ain't already thought about all that." He spoke quietly. "I can't get it out of my head."

"Hey, ya' all need to stop thinking about the bad shit. He's fine. We're gonna get him home, and he'll be fine. Whatever Macks has done to him, we'll fix it, and he's gonna be fine." Jerry spoke quickly.

"Hell Jerry, we can't fix that kind of shit." Bobby spoke quietly. "We can't fix it. That's something we should have known already. Ma knew shit like that couldn't be fixed, it can only be ended. He'll have to deal with it, and we can help him, but we can't fix a fucking thing."

Their conversation ended, and all that was left was the wind howling around them. A couple of cars came up the road, but other than that, there was only the sound of the wind whipping at their faces. Jerry started blowing his breath into his hands after ten minutes, and then Angel followed suit. Bobby stared at the drive, waited for the first sign of the gold van to emerge from the shelter of the trees.

"You know, by this time, we could have snuck up on the bitch and ended it right here." Angel commented fifteen minutes into the wait.

"And then we wouldn't have known where the fuck he had Craig stashed." Bobby muttered. "No, I want the kid in my hands before we off this fucker."

"We know he has him at his family's farm." Angel countered.

"But we don't know where the fuck that farm is, now do we? And even if we did find it, if it's a farm then there's barns and other buildings. There are fields and probably more fucking trees. We don't know that he has Craig in any house." Bobby glanced over at Angel. "And how would we explain it to the cops? I could see us trying to talk our way of killing two men in a van in a secluded spot outside of a small town in Ohio of all fucking places." Bobby's voice turned sarcastic. "Oh no officer, I don't know anything about that, of course I was hundreds of miles from home, looking for my brother, you know that already, Detective Green told you all about it. The fact that your two dead men happened to be the ass holes that took him means nothing, really it don't."

"Hey, look!" Jerry spoke a little louder than he needed to and stopped blowing into his hands long enough to point to the drive they had been watching.

The gold van emerged, and set at the mouth of the drive for a long moment. All three Mercers were on their feet and moving back to the car before the van started out onto the road.

Bobby had left the car running, and only needed to put it in gear. He waited until his brothers were inside, though he was hitting the gas before Jerry had the door pulled closed.

He stayed to the field, but he was looking for a path back to the road. Thankfully the lay of the land flattened out, and the ride wasn't quite a rough as it had been at the beginning. He found a place to pull out onto the road, and this time, he made certain he was far enough behind the van that they wouldn't make him, but close enough that he wouldn't lose sight of it again.

If he was spotted this time, he'd make sure he stayed on them, he'd run them off the road, he'd do whatever it took. He wouldn't kill them, but he'd make one of them talk. As he thought about that possibility, he was sure if he needed to, he could get the geek to break and tell him where the hell his brother was. But that was all a last chance plan. He couldn't risk having to confront either of the men in the van without knowing where Craig was first.

It seemed they drove forever. The van made so many turns and went back onto roads that seemed to be nothing but farmland. The houses were few, and they seemed to grow even thinner the further out they got. The roads started taking on twists and turns, and a few times Bobby was worried the van had turned off in one of those winding portions, but then he'd locate it again in front of him.

"This is the fucking road." Jerry muttered after another twenty minutes, when they followed the gold vehicle onto what seemed to be an ancient roadway, narrow and lined with thick, overgrown remains of brush. Bobby hadn't seen the road sign, but Jerry must have.

Bobby could feel the adrenaline starting to pump into his bloodstream. "Okay, okay." He mumbled the words as he watched the van make a sharp turn onto a gravel lane. He looked up the lane, to the top of a burned out house. "Shit. That's it." He whispered. "Angel, I'm taking one drive up the road, and I'm letting you out so that you can go in on foot." He announced.

Angel pulled his coat tight around him and sat up in his seat. "Yeah, good," He nodded his head. "You can't take this car up the drive, they'll hear you." He squinted against the gray sky and looked up at the house as Bobby eased the car on past the drive.

"I know. I'm gonna use it to block the drive, and me and Jerry will go in from there, split up and each take a side of the house." Bobby agreed. "We need to make sure they're inside before we move in. We need to give them a chance to get Craig out of where ever they have him hidden."

"What makes you so sure they have him hidden? What would be the point in that? Don't you think just having him here, in this fucking place is hidden enough?" Jerry asked, truly not understanding why Macks would have Craig concealed way out in the middle of nowhere.

"They can't risk anyone one stumbling onto him out here. Hell, this would be the perfect place for homeless people to hole up for the winter, or drifters to hide out for a day or so." Bobby's voice was still quiet as his mind concentrated on how they were going to move in on the house and take Macks and Jordan by surprise.


	48. Chapter 48

As always, thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

Don't own, no profit made.

* * *

**Chapter 48: Giving Up**

Craig stared at the blade his father was holding up in his view. He managed to suck in a breath, managed to keep his voice steady. "I'm sorry Dad." He knew his voice sounded small and weak, but that was how Adam liked it, and he knew that. He swallowed back at the bile that was building in his throat as he forced his voice to grow stronger. "Let me make up to you." He looked past the blade which reflected every last beam of dim light that struck it, and into his father's eyes. "I can make you happy." He bit at the inside of his mouth to keep it from showing the cringe that he was feeling inside.

Adam smiled at him, "You want to know what would make me happy?" He dropped down to sit on the boy's stomach, planting his knees hard into the boy's arms, just above his elbows, sufficiently pinning him in his spot on the floor.

"I know what would make you happy." Craig struggled to hide the tremble in his voice. "I'm yours." He felt his soul being sucked out of him as he spoke the words.

"You are mine." Adam leaned down to the boy, sliding the knife blade into his throat as he did. "And you have been a very bad little boy. You know, I should slit your throat right here and now and be done with you." He smiled that wicked smile, his face just inches above Craig's.

Craig felt his insides tremble as he forced his head to rise slightly off the floor, putting pressure on that knife blade, and moving towards his father. The sick feeling churned deep inside, but he fought it down. "Please give me something else?" Craig asked, his voice still sounding small, and he couldn't bring himself to say the exact words that he knew would take the knife away from his throat. He couldn't say the words that would please the man hovering over him, though he knew what those words were, and he knew that if he spoke them the knife would leave the area of his throat.

His mind was flashing a picture of Evelyn Mercer standing above him, smiling at him. The way his real mother had died played out behind his picture of Evelyn, and then his thoughts fell on Bobby, Jeremiah, Angel and Jack. He'd wanted so much for them to really want him as a brother, and now it was looking as if they had made their decision. They weren't coming for him, and the only choice he had if he was to live another day was to convince his father to channel his anger towards him in a way that would sicken him, but leave him breathing.

He had to close the door on the past, and on any hope that he'd had of ever having a normal life again. He had to turn off his feelings, and forget about being a Mercer. He wasn't a Mercer, he was Craig Macks, the son of a sick son of a bitch, and he was nothing. He watched the smile creep across Adam's face, and he felt the blade pull back from his throat.

"You are giving yourself to me? You need to tell me who you belong to boy. You have forgotten who you are and what you are, haven't you?" Adam's right hand reached around and grabbed the back of his hair, pulling on the already smarting scalp, forcing Craig's head back to look at the wall behind him, and exposing his throat completely. "Well, maybe I need to leave my mark on you; so that you never forget who it is you belong to, or what you are here to do." He was no longer in the boy's view, but Craig was sure he'd seen a grin on the man's face just before he was jerked back to lose sight of him.

The knife returned, but this time it was cutting the jersey down the front, splitting it open to reveal his chest. Moments later Craig felt the tip of the blade against his skin and he fought against screaming as the razor sharp blade started to slice into his skin, his father cutting lines into him. He felt his legs kick a few times, and a cry escaped his throat, not a scream, but it was enough to piss off Adam Macks, who stopped his carving long enough to drop the blade so he could land a hard slap to the boy's face.

Craig held in more cries, more tears, as Adam picked the blade up and continued with his task of carving lines. Straight, careful cuts, though Craig had no idea what the purpose was, except to test him, to see how long he would take the pain before he put up a real struggle. He gritted his teeth and restisted the urge to scream out and kick against the man causing his pain.

The boy concentrated on the wall he was forced to stare at, it appeared upside down from his angle, and the paper appeared scorched and smoked. He let his gaze wonder to his right, slightly, to the door that had at one time appeared to have been a grand entrance into the house. He tried to imagine the wood when it was new, polished and shining. He could have sworn that for a split second he saw a face staring back at him through the space in the door that had once held a window. It was just a flash of dark skin, and he wondered for a moment if it was Jerry, but then his mind dismissed the thought. Jerry couldn't be there, none of the Mercers were coming for him, except for in his mind. He had to let go of that hope.

His brain didn't have enough time to concentrate too heavily on the face, Jerry's face, at the door, before his father was letting go of him, allowing his head smack the hard floor, and sending him back into a spinning fit. He looked up at his father in time to see him pulling an ink pen out of his pocket. He watched the man use the remains of the jersey to wipe blood away from his chest, and then tore the pen apart, removing the small tube of ink from the clear plastic barrel. He could see his father cutting the tube with the knife, and when the ink hit his open cuts it stung, burning deep into him. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes close, not wanting to watch the spinning image of his father laughing at him.

He felt Adam's hand wiping on his chest hard, pushing the ink and blood mix around. He knew what his father was doing now. He was giving him a mark that would remain there forever, showing the whole world who he belonged to. The last remnant of Craig Mercer was being sucked out of him, and he was nothing more than the property of Adam Macks. He would bear his father's mark for the rest of his life, though he was sure he wouldn't live very long.

Craig opened his eyes and looked up at his father, refusing to let his tears fall. He refused to allow the pain that he was feeling to penetrate the hard shell that he was building up, and he would not allow himself to feel any sorrow for the loss of a life that he apparently would never have, should never had hoped for to begin with. No one wanted him, no one cared about him. But his father would keep him alive, so long as he obeyed him, and served his purpose. He couldn't risk anyone else getting hurt because him. First it had been his mother, his real mother, being cut down, and that had been his fault. He couldn't help but feel that Evelyn Mercer had died because of him as well, despite the fact that her sons had told him it wasn't his fault. He'd started to believe them too, but now, thinking back on it, it had to be his fault. Jack had been shot because of him, just as the young couple lying only a few feet from him had died at his father's hands because he hadn't obeyed him, and stayed where he was supposed to stay.

While his mind was fumbling over the thoughts it gave him the escape from what was happening to his body. Adam's hands reached for the boy's jaw, holding it with a vice like grip, asking the boy who he belonged to in a loud, threatening yell, and Craig felt himself answering, felt his voice vibrating in his throat, though he couldn't actually hear his own words. "I belong to you." He said the words that finalized his fate. Adam's hand moved away, and he repeated his question, just as loud and frightening. The boy flinched slightly as he answered Adam again, believing he was truly lost to the man's plans for him, whatever they may be. He had given up to him, had accepted whatever it was that Adam Macks had in store for him. Adam pulled his knees off of the boy's aching arms and sat him up, he didn't resist when Adam stood, pulling him to his feet. He heard the knife falling to the floor, apparently forgotten by the man.

Adam held him on his feet facing him for a long moment. "You're going back to your room. You will be punished for disobeying me; I'll pound it into you, just what you are, and who owns you." His voice hissed as he spoke. Craig didn't struggle when Adam's arm latched onto him around his waist and dragged him back through the house.

As Adam pulled him into the dining room, the room with the basement door, Craig's eyes fell on the other man that had been helping his father, the same man who had joined his father in the basement, and had touched him and forced him to do things that turned his stomach. Bradley Jordan had the door leading to the porch standing open and was positioned behind it, looking through the gap between the hinges out to the snow and ice covered drive, he held what appeared to be the remains of a table leg in his hands.

Macks stopped long enough to look at the man. "What the fuck are you doing?" He asked.

"I thought I seen something out there, around the van." Jordan didn't turn to look at the man and boy. "I know I seen something, or someone." Even from behind it was easy to see him reach up with one hand and push his glasses up his nose.

Craig tried not to hear the man's voice. He didn't want to think about the feeling that had washed over him in the school when Jordan had reached out to touch him. He had felt the man's intent then, and now understood why. He was dangerous and he knew his father was going to let that man have him again.

"You are fucking crazy. No one is out there." Adam laughed as he pulled the boy back to the basement. "It was just the two kids and I got them. You need to stop being so fucking paranoid." He headed down into the dark, pulling Craig back down to where he'd been trapped before. "Jordan, I'm going to need that flashlight and the rope!" The man called back up the steps as they reached the overturned boxes. He purposefully kicked one of the wooden crates over to rest in the middle of the room, and forced the boy onto his knees, laying him on his stomach over the box. "Don't you dare move," He leaned down close enough to speak in the boy's ear before turning and walking back to the bottom of the stairs. "Jordan, did you hear me?"

* * *

Bobby dropped Angel off a short distance up the road before finding a place to turn around and heading back to the lane leading to the house. He drove the car half way up the lane before turning it to park it sideways across the wide gravel path. He looked over at Jerry and drew in a deep breath. "We give him ten minutes to get close." He spoke quietly.

Jerry nodded his head. "Right," He agreed, his nerves were starting to show in his voice.

"Relax Jerr', we've dealt with worse." Bobby forced a smile. "Macks is small time compared to Sweet." He looked at his brother. "Macks don't have much imagination. If he did he would have taken Craig somewhere that couldn't be traced. He damn sure would have had someone besides Jordan helping him with his crazy shit. It's pretty obvious when you think about it, he's crazy, not smart." He drew in a deep breath. "He's gonna be easy to take. The only back up he has is throwback from the seventies. Hell, I doubt Jordan knows how to hold a fucking gun, let alone shoot one. We just gotta watch out for Craig, keep him out of the line of fire."

"Now that makes me feel a whole lot better." Jerry forced a laugh.

Bobby laughed as well and shook his head. "Yeah, I know." He looked up towards the house and checked his watch. He waited, mentally calculating how far Angel would have to move through the trees separating the house from the road. It was a good distance, but Angel could move fast. His heart was beating hard against his aching ribs, and his mind was screaming at him to get the hell out of the car, and get to the kid. The minutes seemed to creep by; he looked at his watch almost constantly, trying to fight the urge to move in right then. He bit at his bottom lip a couple of times before drawing in a deep breath. "To hell with ten minutes," He shook his head, "Let's go." He opened the car door and got out, drawing his gun for the ready. He couldn't resist the overwhelming sense that he couldn't wait, that Craig was in need of them right then, that very second, and to wait would only make it worse for the kid.

"What the fuck happened to ten minutes?" Jerry followed Bobby's lead, getting out of the car and pulling out his gun.

"We ain't got ten minutes; I can feel it in my gut." Bobby looked up in the direction of the ruins behind the trees. He started moving quickly up the lane, which took a twist to the left and wound around a hill and a clump of trees, taking him away from the house before turning back to lead him towards it. They were further from the burned out shell than he'd thought. He felt Jerry close behind him, and motioned for him to head to the left to what appeared to be a front door, while he headed in the other direction, towards the side of the house. He looked up at the building, the top floor was mostly burned out, but the bottom portion seemed intact enough to almost live in or at least hide out in.

Bobby rounded the bottom of the hill the house stood on, winding around with the drive. The van came into view, and instinct seemed to take over. He hunched down as he moved slowly to the back side of the van. He looked at the other car sitting closer to the house. He would have to be ready to confront more than just Macks and Jordan; it looked as if they had company. The doorway on the side porch was in plain view from his position, and he could see it standing open. He could not see any movement inside though.

The wind around the house seemed to be coming from every direction. Bobby took in the terrain around him and realized that it was nothing but trees all around the clearing in which the house stood. It was as if the house were sitting in the middle of a bowl, with the wind swirling around that bowl from every angle; it felt as if it as if it picked up in the past few minutes; for that Bobby was thankful. The howling sound could help to mask his approach. The only drawback was that it also drowned out the sounds coming from the house. He was sure he could hear yelling inside, but it was hard to make out. He strained his ears to try to make out what he thought sounded like Craig crying out, but he knew that could be nothing more than his imagination.

He peeked around the van to try and get a view of the inside, only to see a small portion of what appeared to be an empty room. Movement to his right drew his attention and he looked on down the porch to see Angel emerging from some trees. Angel spotted him and pointed to the other side of the house. Bobby nodded his head and looked back towards the house. He remained doubled over as he trotted up to the edge of the porch, keeping down to stay out of sight of the windows. He moved onto the porch on one end and slid down the wall towards the open door. He could feel that Craig was close, but he had to be sure of where he was before he went in firing his gun. He couldn't let the kid get hurt after going through everything else that he'd gone through.

He came to a stop just at the edge of the door, listening for any sound from the room. There was complete silence. He was sure he heard someone calling from a distance, Macks he thought, but he couldn't make out any words from his position on the porch, with all of that wind. He waited, but there was no other sound, so he moved around the corner of the open doorway. He had taken one step inside the door when a sharp pain struck him from his left. Shit, someone had been hiding just out of view behind the door. His head snapped back from the force of the strike, and he tumbled backwards, his hand losing its grip on the gun as he landed sprawled out on his back on the porch. His world spun wildly and his eyes watched as stars danced around him, only partially masking the geek, Jordan, stepping up to stand over him.


	49. Chapter 49

Sorry if I seem to leave you hanging at the end of every chapter, but it's so much fun :)

Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think so far!

Still don't own, still make no money!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 49: A Reason to Fight**

Bobby reached to his right, for his gun, but it wasn't there. He turned his head in that direction, but there was no gun, when he looked back to his left he could see it just a few inches from his fingers. He made his move just as Jordan raised his club up over his head ready to bring it down at him again.

Bobby felt as if the world around him was going in slow motion as he rolled to his left, grabbed the gun with his right hand, and pulled it back up to point it at the man sporting the disco attire. Jordan's arms were in a downward motion, and Bobby had no chance to actually take aim. He spun his body back to the right, dodging the wooden club slicing the air above him, coming at his head. In that moment a second body, smaller, and thin, dove through the air from behind, driving into Jordan's back full force, sending him out the door and down onto the wooden boards next to Bobby.

Bobby stared at Jeremiah for a short moment, letting what had just happened register in his brain. "See, I told you he wouldn't be using a gun." He breathed hard as he pulled his self up to his feet before helping Jerry up to his. "Keep an eye on him." He kicked the wooden remains of a table leg out of Jordan's reach just as Angel came into view in the room from somewhere in the back of the house.

Bobby made certain Jeremiah had his gun in hand and aimed at Jordan's head before he moved inside slowly; looking at Angel hoping the man had some idea where Macks was, and more importantly, Craig. Angel only shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Bobby was about to speak when the voice called out from the doorway to his left.

"Jordan, did you hear me?" The voice was coming from below, sounding hoarse, but loud. Bobby looked at Angel and pointed to the basement. Both men planted themselves on either side of the doorway and waited. They kept silent, waiting for Macks to come up the steps, Bobby praying hard that he wouldn't have his little brother in his grip when he did.

"Jordan, what the fuck is going on?" Macks called from the darkness below.

Bobby strained to hear the footsteps coming up from below, but they never came. His eyes narrowed as he listened to what sounded like movement below, and then a loud 'thud' sounded out. He looked at Angel, confused that the man hadn't come up the stairs, and not wanting to wait any longer. He was about to motion to his brother that he was going down to take care of the ass hole below them, when his mind was attracted to movement behind Angel, through the window that was probably one of the few left in the house that still held glass. It was a man, running through the snow, dragging Craig with him, disappearing around what looked like a barn. "Shit!" He yelled out.

Angel turned to follow Bobby's gaze for just a split second. "There must be another door down there that leads outside." He spoke the obvious.

Bobby was on the move instantly, running out of the house, past Jerry, and jumping off the end of the porch. He could hear and feel Angel right behind him.

Jerry called out to them, but Bobby just motioned for him to stay where he was. "Don't let that son of a bitch move!" He called to him without looking back. His boots slid awkwardly in the snow and slush with each step. The tracks that Macks left were easy to follow, and he was thankful that the snow served that purpose, but it was making it difficult to get much momentum behind his stride.

Angel pulled ahead of him slightly, and then seemed to take off like a rocket. Bobby watched his brother round the corner of barn, and decided to go around the other side; just to be sure the man didn't double back around that way. When he came around on the other end of the barn he could see Angel running on ahead, staying on what appeared to be a wide path cutting between the trees that surrounded them. Bobby picked up his pace, trying to stay in Angel's footprints; he found that his footing was much easier to keep using that method. Angel was a good fifty feet in front of him, and would have continued to gain distance if he hadn't taken a sudden tumble down a steep incline. Bobby reached the top of the incline and could see Angel below, pulling himself up to his feet, Macks just below him; dragging Craig towards what Bobby's mind screamed out at him was a certain death.

Bobby didn't hesitate as he watched Mack's dragging his brother towards a large pond no more than fifty yards ahead. He let his body slide over the drop-off that Angel had fallen down, and landed mostly on his feet next to his brother who had managed to upright himself, and both men ran towards Macks and Craig.

Bobby heard his voice yell out, heard the anger and the fear release from his body as he pushed his legs. His feet seemed to barely hit the snow under him as he raced to stop Macks from doing what was obviously being planned in that sick bastards mind. He hadn't come this far to watch his baby brother drown in the icy depths of a frozen pond out in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered what it was about frozen bodies of water that seemed to draw his family like a magnet. Hell, he was going to make sure that Macks' fate was real damn close to what Sweet had met, and the idiot was making it pretty easy to mirror the whole fucking thing. Beat him to death and then drop into the frozen water.

He could see Mack's nearing what looked to be a dock that stretched out over the water, and could envision a sunny, warm day, with a rowboat tied to that dock. He was sure that at one time that pond had been a place of peace and joy, but right now it was the most frightening thing he'd ever seen.

What seemed more frightening was the fact that his little brother seemed to be moving with the man, not struggling against him. Did he know his brothers were there? Did he know who he was running from? "Craig!" He yelled out, hoping that the teen would hear him, and help him a little by putting up a struggle. He was never going to get to him in time if Craig didn't do something to slow Macks down. He had to fight; he had to make it more difficult for Macks to get him down to that frozen pond, to the icy water. Surely the kid had to know it would be the end if Adam Macks got him to the water. He had to know what was going on. "Craig! Fight him! Damn it Craig, fight that son of a bitch!" He felt his yells hit the wind, and prayed the boy would hear them.

"Craig!" Angel yelled just as loud, seeming to catch on to what Bobby was trying to do.

The land seemed to flatten out under their feet, and for some reason there wasn't as much of the slippery snow to struggle across, allowing them to speed up slightly; both running side by side through the brown, brittle blades of dead grass poking up through the thin layer of snow, Bobby managing to keep up with Angel for a change.

* * *

Craig listened to his father cursing under in breath, in the dark. He stayed on his knees, laying over the wooden crate where his father could keep an eye on him. He was cold again, and the wet, sticky sensation on his stinging chest didn't help matters. His mind was growing fuzzy, but in the dark it didn't matter. He listened as Adam stepped up one of the stairs. "Jordan, what the fuck is going on?" There was worry laced in between the words.

Craig looked up toward the faint light that was filtering in from the open door. He could see shadows moving, just for a moment. He heard feet above him, and the sound of the floor creaking seemed to split the darkness around him. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was screaming out that someone else was there. Maybe his brothers, maybe Bobby had come for him after all. Maybe they did care. The thought was driven down by the fact that Bobby had left him with his father for this long, why would he come now?

Then his confused state seemed to try to figure out just how much time had passed since he'd seen his brothers, hours? Maybe it had been days. He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. And then he realized that it didn't matter, he was trapped where he was, and he had no choice but to obey his father.

Macks turned and came back towards him, grabbing hold of him and jerking him to his feet. He had no choice but to move his legs under him and walk with his father, they were moving to the back part of the basement, to another set of stairs. He was being pulled up, and then Adam pushed open a door above them, blinding the boy's sight with the glare of the snow, and the cloudy sky. He felt the icy wind grab hold of him as he was pulled out into the bitter cold, and dragged along beside his father. Adam was running, pulling him along, mostly dragging him through the stinging cold beneath his feet, but Craig tried to move his legs, not wanting whatever punishment was to come if he slowed the man down.

They were running from someone. That was certain, but Craig had no idea who it was, despite his brain shouting Bobby's name to him. He ignored it, convinced that Bobby wasn't there, he wasn't coming. The only hope he had of seeing Bobby was to imagine him, to make up his own image of him for company when he needed him, but he wasn't going to need him anymore, he didn't want to need him. He had to forget his brothers and the life that he'd had before.

He could see his father dragging him past an old barn, and into trees. There seemed to be trees everywhere. He was sure he could hear the sound of running feet behind him. He wondered if his father had pissed off a potential customer. Had he promised someone something and then failed to deliver? It would be something that Adam Macks would do, he was sure. He didn't care who he screwed over, so long as he made some kind of profit in the end.

Then he was falling, his bare skin skidding along ice and snow and landing with a crushing pressure into the hard, half melted snow, breaking the thick crust of it below him. He was grabbed and jerked hard back to his feet with no time to register the feeling of his body being sliced from head to toe with icy needles. He ran, tried to keep up with the man who was cursing at him under his breath.

"This is it for you kid. You're more problems than you're worth. I'm going to finish what I started years ago." The man growled at him. Craig could see the water in front of him now. The ice cap covering the pond was cracked in spots letting water ooze up through and pool around in different areas.

He knew what his father was planning now. He was going to die there. He was going to die right there, in that water. The thought frightened him at first, but then he felt warmth wash over him. He would finally be free. His body stopped shivering, and he let the warmth penetrate down to his bones. He wouldn't have to worry about his father hurting him anymore. He wouldn't feel the pain of the only real family he had ever known not wanting him. He would be with his mother, Evelyn. He could be with her and feel safe again, like he used to.

His feet were going numb; his legs were having a hard time moving. He felt his teeth chattering, and yet he felt strangely warm. He could no longer feel his father's painful grip around him, and his head was starting to tingle. Despite all of that, he was sure he heard his name being called. It came in on the frosty wind blowing hard around the water's edge. Adam pulled him up two steps onto the wooden dock, and continued to pull him towards the end of the dock, towards the end of his pain. He moved his feet, struggled to keep up.

Adam turned slightly, and when he did it turned Craig, bringing the sight of two men running towards them. He could hear the words drifting on the wind again, "Craig! Fight him! Damn it Craig, fight that son of a bitch!" He felt the tears pooling in his eyes. Bobby was there. His mind tried to tell him it was his make believe Bobby, but then reason seemed to hit him. This Bobby had Angel with him, and his imagined Bobby had been alone.

"Bobby?" The boy barely got the words out. He felt the aching in his chest swell as Adam pulled him further down the dock, closer to the icy water.

His vision seemed to blur up on him, and he knew it was from the tears forming. He felt them empty, and their warmth only lasted a second as they hit his numbing cheeks. He wondered for a short moment why his brothers would be there. They didn't want him; they had given him to Adam Macks, hadn't they? His memories swirled around and started to piece together the real from the imaginary.

The truth seemed to jump out at him somewhere in between the ideas that had been planted there with the drugs and the words that Adam Macks had spoken to him. His brothers hadn't given him to anyone, he'd been pulled away from them, guns had been blasting, and he was sure he'd heard Bobby's voice then too, calling for him. Bobby had been trying to get to him, and he'd been sure that he was going to reach him and make everything alright.

Bobby was running towards him now, yelling something at him. What was it? He was telling him to fight. He was telling him to put up a struggle against his father. He felt his fear growing. He'd let himself accept the fact that Adam Macks had control over everything he did or felt. The man even had control of whether he lived or died. How could he fight against him? He'd tried fighting against him. He'd tried to get away from him and all it had accomplished was getting two innocent people he didn't even know killed, right in front of him.

He felt his body's motion being pulled to a stop. It had only been a matter of seconds that he'd been lost in his thoughts, and now the lack of movement brought him back. Adam was standing with him at the end of the dock, the water smacking chunks of ice against the beams below him. He looked down at the water and the reality of what was happening seemed to overwhelm him.

His body suddenly felt the icy air again, it was as if he were awakened from a sound sleep, and the sudden knowing hit him hard. He didn't want to die like that, not feeling so cold, and alone. He felt his lungs empty out a long, drawn out scream, his left elbow swung back with more force than he knew he was aware he could bring into it, and he sunk it deep into Adam Macks' ribs, forcing the man to release his hold on him. He moved to run back up the dock, not really paying any attention to his brothers moving towards him, only concentrating on getting away from the nightmare behind him.

"You little shit!" Adam's voice yelled out.

Craig barely got two steps before he felt Adam's hand clawing at the shirt that was still hanging on him. He felt his balance tilt and couldn't catch himself as he went down, sliding into the dock. He rolled onto his back and kicked at the man grabbing for his leg, pulling him back towards the end of the dock towards the water.

He could hear thunder heading towards him, and wondered in the back of his mind where it was coming from, but as he was pulled back towards Adam, he felt the vibrations in the dock moving through his body in a steady, fast rhythm. He hit at the man, and kicked at him, but it all seemed to be in vain as he was dragged closer to the edge. He felt his feet go over the end, and then his legs, as Adam pushed and hit at him. He managed to turn back onto his stomach and grabbed for Adam's arms, screaming out in desperation. He could feel his body growing weak as what little strength he'd had to start with was draining quickly in his struggle to hold onto something, anything.

He reached for the railing, but it was inches away. He clawed at the boards under him, trying to get a grip, to hold on just long enough. "Bobby!" He screamed with the last bit of energy he had, and felt Adam pushing him with his hands, off of the dock, his feet hit the ice first, then his legs seemed to slide in, and he was still holding onto something with his hands, the last board of the dock, the very last inch of his life. His arms couldn't hold him up, and he felt his body drop, his hands still clinging with all the strength he could draw from inside. He felt the water up to his hips as he hung from the end of the dock. He looked up at Adam Macks and could see the man laughing at him, his boot moving to crush the very fingers that were grasping to hold on. "Bobby!" He screamed out one last time as the boot drove down on his left hand.

This time he was sure he heard Bobby yelling back. "Craig! Hold on!"

The gunshot sounded faint to the boy. He could see the bullet exit Adams' stomach; the blood spray followed it at half speed. The look on Adam's face was one of surprise. He felt his own hands losing their hold as Adam spun around and fell past him into the water. He could feel the water sucking him down, reaching up and grabbing hold of him, pulling him down, and he screamed one last time, expecting to feel the water around his face at any moment. He squeezed his eyes closed and was ready for what was coming as his fingers lost their hold.


	50. Chapter 50

Okay, now I feel guilty about the cliff hangers :( So, here is the next chapter :) Thanks for reading, and please keep letting me know your thoughts!

Legal stuff still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 50: A Different Battle**

Craig felt his body sliding, the icy water pulling him further down, until hands grabbed at his wrists and his body stopped with a jolt. He opened his eyes and found himself looking up into Bobby's face, just at the edge of the dock above him. It seemed he looked into the man's face forever before two more hands were reaching for his arms, and grabbing hold. He was being hauled up, and though the water felt as if it were freezing on his skin, driving needles down to his bones, he was reaching for the man as soon as he felt the solid wood of the dock under his stomach. He grabbed hold of Bobby and clung onto him. He decided that the real Bobby was much more helpful than his made up version. He could feel the warmth emanating from the man as he clung to him, shivering. His head seemed to be swimming around, and his ears started swishing with the sound of his own pulse. He felt Bobby trying to move him, and he hung on with all the strength that he could, though it wasn't much. He squeezed his eyes closed against the cold and breathed in deeply before his tight chest protested with a cough.

He could hear Angel's voice, and then Bobby's but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Bobby seemed to be panting hard, and was still trying to move Craig into a better position. He was trying to talk to him, and get an answer from him, that much seemed obvious, but the boy was half afraid to speak. He was afraid he would open his eyes and find himself back in that basement and that this was nothing more than dream.

Hands started to rub on his back, and then moved to his arms, rubbing him as if it would warm him up. "He's going to freeze solid out here. We need to get him somewhere warm." Angel voice seemed closer and Craig could make out most of what he said.

Bobby started pulling his coat off, and managed to pry the boy away just long enough to wrap in around him. "Craig, can you look at me?" He pulled the boy back to him. "Come on, look up at me." Craig was certain he heard the words, but he didn't want to open his eyes, not yet. He didn't know if he was dreaming or if it was real, but he knew that if he died right then, he didn't care. He could feel and smell and hear Bobby, and that was something he'd given up on ever having again. For all he knew he was still being sucked down into the freezing pond below and his mind was giving him this one last moment before it shut down. He didn't care, he would hold onto it as long as he could before he died. He pressed his face further into Bobby's shirt and hung onto the feel of him.

"Hell, pick him up." Angel seemed to be standing now, and the fourteen year old could feel Bobby moving, adjusting his hold on him and then his body was rising off of the wet wood he'd been so thankful to feel under him just moments before. He opened his eyes just enough to see Angel pulling his coat off and then wrapping it around Craig's legs. "Let's hurry; Jerry's probably having kittens by now wondering what the fuck is going on." Angel's voice was coming through a little clearer than before, and the boy could tell his brother was trying to sound as if he were joking.

Craig let his eyes slip closed again and felt Bobby's stride as he was carried across the dock. He couldn't stop his body from reacting to the cold that seemed to have embedded in his bones. He could feel his body warming a little, but there was still cold air finding a way under the coats that had been wrapped around him. He tried to pull himself deeper into Bobby's warmth, but it didn't work. His mind was falling into an icy cold drift of snow, not sure of what was going on around him. He felt as if he was floating into a half sleep, but he could feel Bobby handing him over to Angel, his body lifting, and then Angel handing him back to Bobby. He was sure that he heard Jerry's voice after what seemed a long while, and Angel said something about getting the car. After some time Bobby was telling him he had to put him down for a minute. He hung onto the man, not wanting to let go, afraid he would open his eyes and find he was still locked in that basement room where his father left him.

"Craig, come on, you gotta let me get you in the car so we can get you warmed up." Bobby spoke quietly, calmly.

Craig finally loosened his grip on the man and felt his body sliding away. He opened his eyes long enough to see he was in the back seat of a car, it looked a lot like Bobby's old car, but it wasn't the same. In a matter of moments Bobby was climbing in next to him. The man reached up between the seats and turned the heater on full force before sitting back next to the boy and pulling his arms around him. "Jerry is calling Green, and we're gonna let him call the local authorities. There will be police and medics here soon enough. You're gonna have to let some people look at you." Bobby spoke the words quietly, almost as if he wasn't actually talking to the boy, but to himself. "I'll be right there. I won't leave your side, that's a promise." He pulled the boy closer to him, holding him tighter.

Craig let his body relax and let his mind drift. His body was warming up, and his muscles were relaxing. "Is he dead?" He asked the question quietly, and wasn't sure if he'd actually said it out loud. Bobby didn't answer right away. He reached up and let his hand rest on the back of the boy's head.

"He's dead." Bobby's voice answered the question.

"He's not coming back?" Craig didn't open his eyes; he waited for Bobby to tell him his nightmare was over.

"He's not coming back." Bobby confirmed with such decisiveness that the boy finally felt a release of his emotions. He felt the tears starting to slide out from under his closed eyelid.

Craig felt his arms cling onto the man, wrapping around him. "Did you kill Jordan?" He asked.

Bobby hesitated in answering that question. "No. I figure having to face his family, and his coworkers with what the fuck he really is will be much worse than dying for him. He's gonna have to tell the cops the truth about what happened here." He gave the boy a slight squeeze. "Why did you ask? Did that fucker touch you?" He questioned.

Craig froze up inside. Yes, Jordan had touched him. No, he wasn't going to tell his brothers about it. No, he wasn't going to admit anything that he'd done or seen while he'd been with Adam Macks. He wasn't going to tell them anything, he couldn't. The same fears that always seemed to linger around him were still there, only now they were magnified a thousand times, and they felt so dense, and suffocating.

"Craig?" Bobby seemed to lean closer to him. Craig purposely squeezed his eyes closed tighter than they already were, and managed to block out Bobby's words. He could hear him saying more, but he didn't want to hear it. Bobby was going to want him to talk about it, but he didn't want to. He just wanted to forget it, wanted to go home and hide from the rest of the world until the marks were gone from his body and he didn't feel so dirty inside.

Bobby seemed to give up on getting an answer from the boy, and just held him for a long time. Craig was sure he fell asleep. He was sure he was dreaming, but he couldn't remember what it was about, or whether it had been a good dream or a bad dream. He knew he felt warm, and he felt safe, and that was all that mattered to him right then.

He didn't want to wake up, but he felt hands grabbing him, and he was pulled away from Bobby. He felt as if he was being laid onto a bed, but the air around him was cold, until blankets were carefully tucked in around him. He opened his eyes and could see the blue and red lights flashing around him. He felt a large hand grasp onto his and looked over to see Bobby walking along side the gurney that he was laying on. He looked down to see that he was strapped in, and they were moving backwards so that he couldn't see where they were going.

He kept his gaze on Bobby. "I don't want to go to a hospital." He barely got the words out. "Please Bobby; I just want to go home." He felt the tears falling, and couldn't stop them. He didn't feel a need to stop them at that point; his father wasn't around to punish him for crying.

"I'm going to be right with you Craig." Bobby spoke loud enough for the boy to hear him. "I'm right here." He gave the boy's hand a squeeze and didn't let go as he was lifted up into the back of the emergency squad.

Craig felt panic building up inside of him as the doors closed with a hard slam, and the medics moved to pull the remains of the jersey off of him. Craig started to struggle against them, but Bobby held both of his hands firmly.

"Craig, you look at me. Okay? You look right here at me and let them do what they need to. They're gonna help you, okay?" Bobby kept his voice level and calm, the same tone he'd used on Craig before, when he was talking to him like a small child.

The boy let his tears fall and did as Bobby instructed. He blocked out the feeling of the hands touching him, and pressing on areas of his body, looking for broken bones or sensitive areas. He cringed when they started cleaning the marks on his chest, and he even started to kick at them when they moved insert an I.V. into his arm. Bobby talked to him the whole time, though he didn't really comprehend the man's words, he was just taking in the sound of his voice.

The ride in the back of the squad was mostly a blur after that I.V. was put into his arm, and the time he spent in the emergency room was lost to him completely. He remembered very little of what happened once they reached the emergency room.

His next real moment of lucidity came when he woke up in a hospital bed, laying on his right side. He opened his eyes and found Bobby's head resting on the bed, eyes closed, and his hand clasping firmly to Craig's right hand. He stared at his brother for a long time. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but it was obvious that Bobby was tired.

The man was sitting in the chair next to his bed with his head resting there, sleeping soundly. He remembered being angry at his brothers because they'd let his father take him, and he still felt that, a little. He couldn't remember the details of how his father had gotten to him, and he couldn't remember much about how his brothers had reached him, he could only remember being cold and scared, and alone.

The sensation of falling overwhelmed him, and being dizzy. What he remembered more than anything was his father's voice, the things he'd said to him; what he'd done to him, and allowed Jordan to do to him, and colors. Different bursts of every color imaginable seemed to flood his memories. He felt dizzy just thinking about it, dizzy and sick to his stomach.

He tried to pull his body over to rest on his back, but his chest screamed out at him with the feeling of razors slicing him. He looked down at the gap between his body and the hospital gown and could see his chest had been bandaged heavily. He felt tears trying to build, and fought them down. He was not going to cry. He refused to cry and let himself feel weak, not now. He wasn't going to be weak this time. He was going to take care of his self, and take care of his own feelings.

He damn sure wasn't going to rely on his brothers, where had they been when he needed them? Where had Bobby been? He couldn't chance them not coming through for him, not this time. He was through with feeling small, and weak. His father had made him that way, and he wasn't going to let it happen anymore.

Craig looked at Bobby again. As much as he wanted to hold onto the man, he had to let go. He knew that. If he let go now it wasn't going to hurt as much when Bobby let go of him, and that was going to happen eventually, probably sooner rather than later. He was mad at the man, and he had to keep feeling mad at him. He had to keep that wall up, and he couldn't let it fall down this time.

The boy carefully pried his hand free of Bobby's grip and pulled his arm away before slowly rolling over onto his back and then onto his left side, putting his back to the man, gritting his teeth against the pain it sent through his chest.

He let his body relax as he closed his eyes and felt his mind go blank. He drove all of the things that he could remember back to that dark void in his mind and forced them to stay there. He was almost asleep again when he felt Bobby moving behind him. He felt a hand rest on his arm for a moment, and then it moved away just as sleep pulled him in.

When he woke he felt as if the room was crowded. He was on his back this time, and Bobby and Jerry were both standing at the foot of his bed. A man in a suit and tie stood next to the door. "We just need a short statement from him, that's all." The man spoke calmly.

"Look, I told you, he's not talking to anyone except the detective back home. He knows Green, he feels comfortable with him." Bobby said the words with a little irritation weaved in between them. "He's been through enough. Didn't Jordan tell you all you needed to know?"

"Bradley Jordan gave us a very detailed statement, but we still need something from your brother. Look, I'm not trying to make it harder for him, I'm really not. If he could write something down, it would be all we need." There was no doubt what the man's occupation was by that time. Craig closed his eyes again and waited for his brothers to get the cop out of the room. He didn't feel like talking. He didn't even want to talk to his brothers at that moment, let alone a cop.

More words were spoken, and Jerry told the police officer that he was sure Green would send him a copy of Craig's statement. Eventually the suit walked out the door and Bobby and Jerry both seemed relieved.

Craig let his eyes open, and immediately regretted it. Bobby looked over and grinned at him. "You've been awake?" He stepped over to take a hold of the boy's hand. "You little sneak, playin' possum while the cop was in the room." He was joking, but the smile faded from his face when Craig pulled his hand back from him the instant he touched him.

Craig didn't look at Bobby; he kept his gaze fixed on the foot of the bed. He wished he was still tired so that he could close his eyes and go back to sleep. It would be a way to escape having to look at his brothers, feeling ashamed, and angry, and confused all at the same time.

"Well, you're lucky. We get to take you home." Jerry smiled at the boy and stepped up to the other side of the bed.

"Angel went on ahead, got a ride with a cop, can you believe that?" Bobby laughed.

Craig didn't respond to the comment. He didn't really care at that moment where any of his brothers were, and that realization spooked him a little.

Jerry and Bobby exchanged a quick glance over the bed before Jerry turned and headed for the door. "I'm gonna go get the nurse; she needs to check him before we get out of here. And they'll want him to eat too."

"Yeah," Bobby's voice was quiet. He watched Jerry walk out of the room, and then looked down at the boy. "We thought you were gonna sleep all the way to Christmas. Hell, we have time to get some food in you, and get you home and settled in before Christmas Eve."

Craig did his best to ignore Bobby's words, but he could feel curiosity building inside of him. What day was it? What time was it? His stomach did feel hungry, was he really going to get to eat? Just how far away from home were they? Where had his father dragged him off to? What had happened to his father? He had a good idea that Jordan had been arrested, but what about Adam? He wanted to know, but he didn't want to ask. If he spoke to Bobby now, the man would expect him to keep talking to him, and he didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to any one.

He felt angry at his brothers, and he wasn't even sure why at that moment. He wanted to feel close to them, but something inside of him told him they had turned against him somehow, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly had happened to make him feel that way. As he tried to remember his brain seemed to fill up with the familiar patterns of colors, lines and circles and strange designs that felt familiar to him, yet frightening. They seemed to tilt his brain and make him feel off balance.

He realized Bobby was still talking, but he didn't care that he'd missed most of what he'd said. He didn't want to hear him at that moment. At the same time part of him was afraid the man would walk out of the room and leave him alone.

It didn't take long for a nurse to check him over quickly. Food arrived shortly after his examination, and he ate the bland, tasteless food as if it were a feast. Jerry pulled out a plastic bag and presented him with new sweatpants, t-shirt, a flannel shirt, underwear and socks.

While Bobby helped him dress he was informed that it was Friday afternoon, and he'd been in the hospital for twenty four hours. He'd been sleeping most of the time, but he did seem to be fighting a cold, and he was going to be sore for a while, but he was fine, for the most part. He was going to have to see a doctor at home, to make sure what injuries he did have healed properly. He listened, but he didn't answer when Bobby tried to get him to talk to him. He just sat there, remained quiet and found something to focus on other than his brothers.

He was more surprised to find out they were in Ohio. He hadn't realized that he was so far from home. Somewhere in his brain a voice was telling him that his brothers had found him, even though Adam had taken him hundreds of miles from Detroit. They had come for him, and given the distance they'd had to come, they had gotten there pretty quick. But another part of him couldn't let go of the nagging feeling that he'd been lied to at some point, and that his brothers had handed him over to Adam, had wanted to get rid of him.

Bobby seemed to talk nonstop the whole time he was helping him dress. Telling him how Jack was doing. Telling him how Angel had a broken arm, and how he himself had busted up some ribs. He didn't go into details about how any of the injuries had been acquired, but Craig was sure he was going to hear all about it during the ride home, and he couldn't help but think that it was going to be a long ride. It was going to make it harder to battle the strange feelings building inside of him.


	51. Chapter 51

This one is short folks, but I'll try to get another one up soon :)

Legal statement still counts

* * *

**Chapter 51: Emotions and Colors**

Before they actually left the hospital, the doctor who had been treating Craig stopped into the room. "The nurse called me and let me know you were getting ready to leave." The man seemed old to Craig, but he tried not to pay much attention to him, despite the fact that the man continued to ask him questions. How was he feeling? How did his stomach feel? Did his chest bother him? Was he feeling dizzy at all? He sat on the edge of the bed, his legs hanging over the side, waiting for the wheel chair that was supposed to take him out of there. He was starting to feel as if he were suffocating in that room. He felt as if he were being watched too closely by his brothers and his nerves felt raw. He felt irritated, even when there was no real reason for it. He didn't understand why he was feeling so pissed at his brothers, and he wanted to get out of that room where the walls seemed to be closing in around him.

The doctor seemed old to the teenager, and though he was trying to ignore his presence he could still hear him talking to Bobby and Jerry once he was done asking Craig the questions that had gone unanswered. He told them both that the medication he was on was pretty strong, and that combined with the kind of head injury he'd suffered that he would probably be non responsive, it was normal, but he needed to remain in bed for several days. Bobby told the doctor he didn't have to worry about that, he was going to be under close watch.

"Just remember what we talked about, we still haven't identified the drug in his system. I really do wish you would let him stay here for another day or two, just be sure it's been flushed out completely." The doctor spoke quietly, almost as if he didn't want the boy to hear him.

"He's not gonna be in any hospital over Christmas. He's gonna be at home, and we'll be watching him close, don't worry about that." Bobby answered just as quietly, and Craig found it irritating that they were talking about him as if he wasn't in the room, as if he couldn't hear what they were saying. He was sitting right there, and they were talking as if he were an idiot that couldn't hear or comprehend what they were saying. He found it much easier to fix his gaze on the handle of the closet door and stare at it. He could almost pull the colors back into his brain if he stared at it long enough. They started out as tiny specks of different hues, swirling around the handle, and dancing about, starting to form patterns and designs that he was starting to find comforting. They started to vibrate and to the beat of the words that were being spoken around him.

"Craig?" The doctor stepped up in front of him, blocking his view of the handle, irritating him. He didn't look up into the man's face. He shifted his gaze down to his hands in his lap. "It's been a pleasure meeting you." The man rested a hand on the boy's shoulder and his entire body stiffened. The touch seemed to sting, and the man's hand felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds.

Craig shrugged out from under the hand quickly, pulling back from him, but he didn't say a word, or look up at him.

"Have a safe trip home."The doctor turned to Bobby and Jerry. "Have your doctor contact us here and we'll send him everything we have. There are still a few tests that haven't come back yet."

Craig could feel the doctor's gaze come back to him, but only for a moment, before he shook hands with his brothers and left the room.

Bobby walked up to him and told him if he needed to use the restroom now would be the time for him to do so. Craig didn't respond to the man, he just remained where he was sitting, ignoring the words, not wanting to move at that moment. He felt Bobby take an easy hold of his arm and pull him to his feet. "Come on, you need to get it taken care of now. I'm not carrying your ass into any gas station rest room on the way home." The man spoke calmly, but his voice was starting to sound strained.

Craig pulled his arm away from Bobby and started to pull back up on the bed. He didn't have to pee, and he didn't want the man to touch him right then.

Bobby's hand came right back and gripped his arm firmly this time. Craig attempted to pull out of his grip, feeling his arm throbbing under the hold, though he was sure that his brother wasn't really holding him that hard. Bobby didn't let him go this time. He pulled him back off the bed, and didn't say a word as he guided him to the restroom door and pulled it open. He didn't close the door and leave him alone. He pulled Craig's new sweatpants down, and his underwear, and kept his hold on his arm.

"You take a piss now." Bobby's voice still sounded tense, and it only fueled Craig's own annoyance with the man. He tried to pull away from him once, but Bobby's grip tightened and he leaned closer to the boy. "Don't test me. You take a piss, right now."

Craig did what his brother told him. He was surprised by the amount he managed to empty out, he hadn't felt the urge to go, but once he was going it seemed he was never going to finish.

When he did finally empty out completely Bobby pulled his pants back up and ordered him to wash his hands. Craig stared at the sink, not sure what to do for a moment, starting to feel confused. Then the small bar of soap on the edge of the sink seemed to dance around and glow a strange blue. He reached for it and did what Bobby had told him, slowly becoming unsure of what was going on around him.

Bobby helped him dry his hands, from behind him, and when he was done, the man leaned down close to him. "I don't know what the fuck is going on in that head of yours, but when I tell you to do something; you are going to do it. The next time you pull away from me, I'm gonna crack your ass a good one." He spoke quietly. "I know you're hurting, and scared, and I want to help, but I'm getting a little tired of the attitude I'm feeling from your right now. You don't feel like talking, you don't have to talk. But I busted my ass to find you, and I'll be damned if you are gonna pull away from me and jerk me around with your attitude. Do you understand me?"

Craig looked up at the mirror where he could see Bobby's reflection behind him. His mind was taking over and controlling what he was seeing, he knew that. He watched as Bobby's reflection seemed to blur up and roll around like a cloud of smoke. When it settled it took on the form of his father. If his bladder had been full at that moment he would have pissed his pants. He nodded his head slowly, pulling his gaze down from the image so that he wouldn't have to look at it.

The wheel chair was pushed into the room as Bobby guided Craig out of the restroom. The young intern that would be seeing them out reached to help Craig into the chair, speaking cheerfully as he did, though his words were lost on the boy. They seemed to take on colors as they left his mouth and drifted slowly up to the ceiling. Craig pulled back from the stranger, into Bobby.

"It's okay; I can get him it." Bobby spoke calmly, guiding the boy to sit down, and lifting his feet into the rests in front of the chair. "Is there a seat belt on this thing?" Bobby asked quickly.

Jerry looked confused by the question, but he intern nodded his head and pulled the belt from the back of the chair. Bobby proceeded to strap the boy into the chair firmly. "He's not very strong right now; we don't want him sliding out of the chair."He looked up at Craig and forced a grin. "Isn't that right?"

Craig couldn't help but think that Bobby wanted to prevent him from jumping to his feet and running. To be honest he may very well have done that once they were out in the halls. He felt as if he were being bombarded from all directions. Colors and sound seemed to meld together, the sounds echoing off the walls, exploding in sparks; the colors screaming at him, sounding like his father, but the words not quite reaching confused brain.

The back seat of the car was ready for him with two pillows and some blankets. He let Jerry help him through the passenger door, though he cringed inside at the feel of his hands touching him. He couldn't lie down flat, but the pillows did make it halfway comfortable to rest back against, with his legs on the seat. He didn't expect it when Bobby reached in from the driver's side to pull the seat belt around him, pull it snug and then fasten it. "You leave that on." The man looked him in the eye for a long moment before backing out the door. His words lingered like a black mist filling the back seat.

Craig was thankful for the silence that filled the car for the first several minutes of the ride. He hoped it stayed that way for a while. He didn't like the way Bobby's words appeared around him. He knew it wasn't normal, what he was feeling, but he didn't want to let go of it either. Somehow it felt comforting. He'd gotten used to how the colors and sounds seemed to meld into each other, and somehow it seemed right. If he told Bobby that he was seeing sounds, hearing colors and that every touch hurt, the man would think he was crazy. He thought he was crazy at that moment, but he was welcoming it, and he wasn't sure why. He let his head rest back and closed his eyes.

The car did remain silent for a long time, and Craig was able to drift in and out of sleep. His mind also had a chance to think, and wonder about what the hell had happened. He wasn't sure any more. Bits and pieces of his time with his father seemed to seep into his dreams but they didn't feel like nightmares. He felt nothing.

Craig somehow managed to slide down further into the seat as he dozed. He could hear his brothers talking from the front from time to time, and he could hear music drifting back with the heat. The music seemed to pull the colors out of his brain, allowing him to escape the back of the car and get lost in the different designs that were floating around in the air above him. He heard Jerry talking about Jack, and Angel. Sofi's name came up a few times, as did her mother. Craig started to feel anxious. He didn't want to go home. He wanted to find a place to curl up and hide and not have to look at anyone, or have anyone look at him.

He was aware enough to know when Bobby stopped for gas. The man turned in the seat and looked at him. "You want something to snack on or something to drink?" Bobby asked him.

Craig ignored the man's words and stared at the window above his feet. He wanted to be left alone, left to his own little world at that moment. He didn't want to think about anything, he didn't want to feel anything. He didn't expect the hand to come back between the seats and grab his chin, turning his face to look at the man. "You don't have to say a fucking word, but when I talk to you, I expect you to look at me, and at least acknowledge me. Now do you want anything?" Bobby's voice was firm.

Craig stared at Bobby for a long moment, angry at him for disturbing his privacy somehow. The boy shook his head slightly and waited for Bobby to release him.

"I'll get you some water, and you'll drink it." Bobby pulled back and got out of the car, leaving Craig with Jerry, who turned and smiled at him.


	52. Chapter 52

I wanted to get this up yesterday, but it didn't work out that way. Let me know what you think, as always, and thanks for reading!

Legal statement still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 52: Emotional Rollercoaster**

Jerry opened the bag Bobby had returned to the car with and reached into the back seat, holding a bottle of water out to Craig. Craig didn't reach for the bottle. He glanced at the rearview mirror and seen Bobby watching him before he felt motivated enough to take the water. He held it in his hands and rested back into his pillows.

"Open it and start drinking. The doctor said you needed fluids in you." Bobby spoke without turning to look back at him as he started the car and pulled it away from the gas pumps.

Craig opened the bottle and took a tiny drink, hoping that would satisfy Bobby. The anger he was feeling inside didn't want to let go of him. He didn't want to drink the water, he wasn't feeling thirsty, and he was getting tired of Bobby telling him what to do. He slowly eased his head back and let his eyes close.

"Craig, I will park this car and come back there to hold that bottle for you if you want me to. But you are going to drink it." Bobby didn't pull the car out onto the street. He had stopped in the middle of the parking lot and was looking at him in the mirror again.

Craig made a face, he knew he did, but he opened the bottle and took another drink. He waited a moment to see if Bobby would continue driving, but the man was still watching him. He looked into the mirror, at Bobby's eyes. The man didn't look angry, but it was clear that he wasn't going to let Craig put the water down. He took another drink before Bobby eased the car towards the street. He kept sipping on the water, mostly to keep from hearing Bobby badgering him about it. He wanted to be left alone, and he didn't understand why that was so much for him to want at that moment.

The bottle was empty ten minutes later, and he let it fall onto the floorboard of the back seat before he rested his head back and closed his eyes. He tried to find that place in his mind where the colors were hiding, but he couldn't reach it, and it made him feel all the more frustrated. The car was quiet, and his brothers weren't saying anything. He started feeling hot after a while, and pushed the blankets down from his legs, letting them fall to the floor. He didn't seem to be able to get comfortable, and he seemed to have to move his body continuously. Then he started to cool down and wanted the blankets back.

Jerry looked back at him and reached back to help him retrieve the covers. He pushed Jerry's hands away without realizing it. He didn't want the man reaching that close to him, it was suppose to be his space, and he didn't want it invaded. He wasn't even sure why he felt that way, except he was angry that he was awake, and wasn't able to get his brain to drift off into the safety that it had been floating in just a short time before.

The brakes on the car hit hard and Craig had to hold his arm out to brace himself on the back of Bobby's seat or roll onto the floor. Bobby pulled the car off the road just an instant after Craig had given Jerry's hands a hard push. Craig felt fear overwhelm him as he realized he was pissing the man off, and he'd probably pushed him past his limits. His imagination was screaming at him now, telling him that Bobby would put him out of the car and leave him there on the side of the road, or turn around and drive him back to where ever they were driving from and leave him there, telling whoever was close enough that he didn't want him, he wasn't listening to him, he was bad and would never be good enough to be his brother. Somewhere deep inside he was telling himself that Bobby wouldn't do that. The part of him that had clung to the man on the dock was still lingering somewhere inside, though he didn't really have that solid memory to grasp onto. He had to lose that part of himself if he were going to survive what he'd been through, but he wasn't even sure what exactly he'd been through. His mind was blocking the vivid memories and only letting him remember the feelings and those damn colors; he had to try to leave it behind. He wanted to feel angry, he needed to feel angry, though he wasn't sure why.

He didn't have to look up to see Bobby coming between the front seats, sliding all the way into the back, landing on top of his legs. "Jerry, you drive. Me and Craig are gonna have a little talk." Bobby's voice sounded calm, but the look on his face was unreadable.

"Bobby, man, the back seat of the car ain't no place for that." Jerry spoke quickly, but he was moving over the center console to take his place in the driver's seat.

"Hell, ain't no reason why we can't take care of this little problem right here, right now." Bobby pushed Craig's legs off the seat and then sat back so that he was comfortable.

Craig started to move his legs to get them more comfortable, but Bobby reached out and gave him a light smack. "You don't fuckin' move." He spoke sternly.

Jerry pulled the car back out into traffic. "Man, this is crazy." He muttered.

Bobby picked the blankets up off the floor of the car. "Are you cold? You want these?" He held them up.

Craig reached for the blankets, but Bobby smacked his hand away. "No grabbing. You want it?" He asked.

Craig stared at Bobby, feeling the anger building up.

"You don't have to say a fucking word. You can nod your head, or shake your head. Do you want these blankets?" Bobby's words were still sounding mostly calm, they were just pushing he boy past his anger point.

Craig pulled his body around to sit up in the seat, and he turned so that he was looking out the window, trying not to look at or hear Bobby next to him. He couldn't let his anger out, not while he was trapped in the back seat of the car with the man. Bobby would put him over his knees and bust his ass.

Bobby slid across the street until he was practically sitting on top of the boy. "Little brother, I'm not pissed off, yet. I'm just stopping this now, before your attitude get's a whole lot worse, that's all. You don't act like this with us. Not me, Jerry, Angel or Jack. That's just not something that I'm going to let you do. We love you, and we all know that you're scared, and you're feeling all sorts of shit right now, but we are here to help you through it, and you are not going to push us away, do you understand me?"

Craig felt his body starting to shiver, but it wasn't from being cold. He wasn't even sure if it was fear. He was still feeling angry at his brother, and he wanted him to leave him alone. He wanted to hit him, and push him back, and make him get out of his space. He wanted some control over who could get close to him, and at that moment he didn't want anyone near him. He opened his mouth to try to say something, but he couldn't get any of the words that he was thinking to come out. Instead tears slid out of his eyes and he held onto his stomach.

He felt Bobby ease an arm around him, and pull him close to him while he brought the blankets around him. "It's okay kid." The man sounded as if he was trying to sooth away pain, but the boy wasn't feeling pain. Craig tried to pull back from the hold Bobby was wrapping around him, but he couldn't. He found himself letting his head rest on Bobby's shoulder, a strange sense of security starting to rise inside of him. He was still feeling irritated, and angry, but he felt safe with Bobby holding onto him. He let the tears fall again, and let his body lean into his brother.

"Okay." Bobby seemed to relax next to him. "Move over here so you can lay back." Bobby pulled him back across the seat and helped him put his feet back up, making sure they were covered. He grabbed the pillow and put it in his lap, easing the boy down into it, "Now just calm down." Bobby's voice was growing quiet, almost a whisper. "Close your eyes and I'll be right here, watching out for you, okay?" Bobby's hand rested over the boy's forehead, partially covering his eyes.

Craig let his eyes slip closed and even though the tears were falling he felt the tension lift from his body. He let his mind drift off, reaching out and grabbing hold of Bobby's other hand, holding onto it as tight as he could, as if his brother would disappear if he didn't hang onto him. He was still feeling pissed, but he didn't want Bobby to go anywhere.

When Craig woke he was alone in the back seat, but the air around him was cold. He opened his eyes and looked up to see both of the doors open, Bobby and Jerry were both out of the car, but he could hear their voices. The car wasn't running. He sat up slowly and looked out the window next to him. The Mercer house was looking back at him. The sky was cloudy, making the day gloomy and seem dark. The lights in the house were on, illuminating a yellow-orange glow through the windows, looking warm and safe inside, until the yellow-orange started to vibrate to the sound of the faint voices outside the car. He looked to the back end of the car, the trunk was open and his brothers seemed to be pulling items out.

Craig shivered slightly from the cold air and pulled the blankets around him a little tighter as he looked back to the house. It felt as if he hadn't been home in forever. He tried to ignore the flashes of color that seemed to fill his brain when his brothers spoke, or the sound of items banging around in the trunk hitting his ears. His gaze went up to the windows above the porch, Jack's room on one side, his mother's room on the other side. His heart started to ache at the thought of his mother. He wanted more than anything for her to put her arms around him and make the rest of the world vanish for a while, but he would never feel that safe again in his life. He wasn't sure if he could ever feel close to being that safe.

Movement at the front door drew his attention back downward. Angel was coming through the front door, and Sofi was right behind him. Angel was calling something out to Bobby and Jerry, and there was a smile on his face. The sound of his voice sent purple and green lines running across the front yard.

"Where the hell have you been? We tried to call!" Jack's voice drew his attention back to the door. Jack wasn't coming out, but he stood in the door, holding it open. He wasn't wearing any shoes, and he had a blanket pulled around him in a similar fashion as Craig was holding his around him. A dark red haze seemed to engulf him, and swirl around like a tornado.

"Hell, I gave in and let Jerry drive." Bobby called back from out of sight on the other side of the open trunk. Blue and yellow sparkles rose in the air around the boy and his skin started to sting.

Angel was reaching the car about that time. He came to the door and leaned in. Craig was still looking at Jack in the door and it took a moment for him to realize Angel was saying something to him, sending purple swirls through the car. He finally looked at Angel, wondering what the words had been.

"You want me to carry you in?" Angel was pulling the seat up. "Come on, we got the couch all made up and ready for you." He held his hand out towards Craig, the smile still on his face but the purple swirls were turning dark, almost black.

Craig wasn't sure if it was the thought of letting Angel touch him, or the idea of going into the house, but he didn't want to leave the back seat of the car. He pulled his self back into the seat and turned away from the man, hugging at the blankets tighter and putting his back to the window so he wouldn't have to look at the house.

Angel hovered there for a long moment before pulling back out of the car and going back where Bobby and Jeremiah were loading their arms up with bags. Craig could see a little bit between the gap of the trunk and the back end of the car. He could see Bobby handing Angel his load, and he could hear their quiet voices in soft pink puffs of mist and he was starting to grow tired of the colors, and the designs. He was starting to feel confused by them.

Moments later Bobby was walking to the driver's side of the car. He pushed the door closed and then made his way around the front of the car to the passenger's side. He leaned in and looked at the boy.

"Come on kid, we're home. You got brothers inside that have been waiting to see you." Bobby reached for him, but he pulled his body further down the seat, trying to block out the words, the colors, and the stinging that his skin seemed to be feeling from his toes all the way up to his chest.

Bobby stared at him for a long moment. "Okay, you wait here, and I'll be right back." He pulled backwards, out of the car, and walked to the back end to push down the trunk with a hard slam.

Craig looked up and watched Bobby following Angel and Jerry to the front porch. He opened the door for them and then followed them inside. Craig listened to the silence around him, and the lack of colors flashing in front of him. His mind seemed to take the quiet in and for the first time he didn't feel the need for the colors to swirl around him. He wondered how long Bobby would let him sit in the car. He hadn't expected him to just leave him there. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, really. He wanted to be home, but he didn't want to be in the house with all of them right then. He didn't want the sounds,, the colors, or the feelings to invade his thoughts. He wanted the quiet. The time passed, and the quiet seemed to grow around him, making him feel more at ease.

The sound of the front door slamming closed drew his attention back to the front of the house. Bobby was coming back towards him; Jack was next to him, wearing shoes now, but still clutching his own blanket. Craig felt his insides tense up. He didn't want to face Jack, and he wasn't sure why. He felt as if he'd done something awful, and Jack would never forgive him for it, but he wasn't sure what it was now.

Bobby crouched down next to the car and looked inside. "You ready to come in yet?" He asked.

Craig looked at the man, but didn't show any signs of having heard the question. He was watching for what color would scream out at him, but for the moment the colors seemed to have stopped.

Jack leaned down to look in, and gave the boy a grin. "Well, I guess we could all fit in here, but it would be a little crowded, don't you think?" He commented.

The words confused the boy, and drew his gaze to Jack.

"You know, if you don't come in, we'll end out here spending however long it takes in this car to get your ass inside." Jack looked directly into his eyes. Jack stared at him for along moment, and then an expression of knowing seemed to creep over his face. "You can lay down in my bed in the dining room if you want, and we'll all leave you be for a while and give you a chance to get settled in, how's that?" His grin left, but he looked and sounded so sincere that Craig couldn't stop himself from nodding his head.

Jack seemed to know what he wanted right then, and he hadn't had to say a word for him to understand. "Okay, but you can't walk on your own. So Bobby has to carry you. You can let him do that, can't you?" The younger man asked the question quietly.

Craig felt his nose stopping up on him, and he sniffed at it. He was feeling cold and his chest was starting to tighten up on him. He coughed at the tightness and nodded his head slowly. The colors weren't floating around at the sound of the words, and he was feeling a little more at ease with the idea of going in.

Bobby looked at Jack. "You need to get your ass back inside, you aren't supposed to be out here." He spoke quietly. "I got him." He assured.

Jack looked at Craig. "Okay, I'll go make sure everyone knows to stay clear for a while and let you get settled in." He told Craig before turning to walk away.

Bobby reached his hand out to Craig, "Come on, you need to get inside before that cold turns into pneumonia." He spoke seriously.

Craig moved back across the seat and let Bobby grab hold of him, picking him up out of the car. The man didn't bother to close the car door; he carried him up the walk, past Jerry who was holding the door open, and up the steps. Jerry said something about locking the car up as they passed. The big wooden door leading into the front foyer was standing open, and the warm air seemed to be pouring out of the house into the front porch. Bobby carried him through the living room, past Angel and Sofi, to the dining room, and took him straight to the hospital bed where Jack was waiting, pulling the blankets back.

Bobby eased him down onto the bed, letting his legs hang over the side. "You have to take your medicine." The man pulled his coat off and draped it over the back of the nearest chair. "I'll be right back." He looked at Jack for a moment and then walked into the kitchen.

Jack reached for the blankets the boy was still clutching to. "Let me take these." He pulled them away slowly, ready to stop removing them if Craig resisted.

Craig let Jack take the blankets, and watched him drop them on the foot of the bed. "Is there anything you want?" Jack asked while he sat down in the chair Bobby had used as a coat rack.

Craig looked down at his knees, not wanting to look at Jack, or anyone else. The sound of the television playing quietly in the next room seemed to be spurring his brain into another light show. He wanted the colors to take him away, but at the same time he wanted to escape from them, and the total quiet he'd experienced in the car for those few minutes seemed to have the only real peace he'd felt since he'd come to in the hospital.

Jack didn't try to say anything else, he let Craig sit on the bed, hiding in his shell, blocking out the sounds that would bring back the colors. When Bobby returned he had a hand full of pills, a brown bottle of what looked to be red syrup, and a glass of apple juice. He handed Jack the pills and juice so that he could dose the boy with the syrup. Craig watched Bobby pour the syrup into a small plastic cup, and had no choice but to drink it when Bobby put it up to his lips and tilted it into his mouth. He pulled a face at the taste while Bobby took the pills and juice from Jack and turned back to him. He stood in front of the boy and held the pills out. "You take them one at a time." He ordered.

Craig looked at the various sizes and colors of the meds cradled in Bobby's palm. He was lost in the colors for a moment, watching them spin around and float out of his brother's hand. He didn't want to put the colors in his mouth, and the idea of having to was building up the frustration that was returning inside.

Bobby leaned forward slightly, looking at him. "It's okay. I wouldn't give you anything that would hurt you, you know that." He spoke quietly.

Craig reached out for one of the pills, but couldn't get his fingers to grasp it.

"Okay, here, I'll give them to you." Bobby held the juice out to him. "You take a drink of this after each pill." He spoke calmly.

Craig took the glass, not wanting the pills, but sure that there was no way out of taking them.

Bobby held up the first pill, a bright pink color and it was glowing between his fingers. Craig stared at it, and when he didn't open his mouth Bobby pushed it in. "Drink." He told him, still in a quiet voice.

Craig drank the juice, feeling the pink penetrate his stomach and float around there. The process was repeated with the orange, white, blue and greens that followed. He could feel the colors moving through his body. He'd been trying to get away from them, and now there were moving around inside of him, and he hated the feeling. He barely felt Bobby taking the glass from him, or pushing him down into the bed and covering him up.

"You close your eyes and relax. If you want anything we're gonna be right in the living room. You don't get out of the bed." Bobby told him before helping Jack stand.

Craig watched his brothers walk into the living room. Jack turned off the lamp, leaving only the Christmas tree and the glow of the television. He watched as his brothers seemed to huddle around the coffee table. Bobby and Jack on the couch, Jerry and Angel in the two chairs. They were talking quietly, and from time to time Bobby would glance in at him. Craig's eyelids started to feel heavy after some time, and he let them close. He felt himself drifting into a quiet, dark world, where there was no color, and he was thankful for that. He was feeling more confused. He had thought that coming home would make him feel better, but it only seemed to intensify every emotion inside of him. Not the good emotions, the bad ones. The fear, the anger, and the confusion were building, and he wasn't sure why.

He preferred feeling the anger, but he couldn't express it. He couldn't scream at any one to leave him alone, he couldn't seem to get his voice to say anything right then, and that just made him feel all that more frustrated. He didn't want to be home. He didn't want his brothers pushing in on him, and he could feel that happening. He was angry at them, and he didn't want to be, but at the same time it felt good to feel it, and it all seemed to move around in an endless circle, one emotion building on another, and fueling the next. He was starting to feel as if he was trapped on some wild roller coaster, and he wanted off.


	53. Chapter 53

You know, I have always had a hard time finding an ending point in my stories, but I'm working on it folks :) Thanks as always for reading and for all of the reviews!

Legal statement still counts!

* * *

**Chapter 53: Close to Normal**

The dark nothingness of sleep lasted only a short time; at least it seemed short to Craig. He started to feel cold, and grabbed for the blankets, pulling them around him. The sensation of what felt like a tiny spider running across his hand pulled at his brain. He reached over with his other hand and scratched at the itch that was building. The feeling intensified, and he was sure the bed was swarming with spiders, and other bugs, all crawling across his skin, working their way up the sleeves of his shirt, and the legs of his pants. He scratched at the crawling, still in a state of half sleep, trying to free his body of the millions of tiny legs moving around on him. He tried to tell himself it was a dream and that it wasn't real, but his brain was falling too deeply into it for the reasoning to matter.

His mind seemed to have the ability to change his surroundings on him, and softness of the bed seemed to harden and turn cold; he opened his eyes to find nothing but black and when he reached out with his hands he found he was confined in a tight closet, the spiders pouring over his body. He seemed to be able to see them now, even in the dark. He looked at them, and they all seemed to have the face of Adam Macks. They looked as if they were laughing at him, and if he listened hard enough he could actually hear the sound of his father's laughter, a million times over.

Connecting his feeling to Adam Macks seemed to open the door to other parts of his brain. The parts that he'd been keeping shut down for the purpose of holding onto what little bit of sanity he still had. His blood started to boil at the memories of his father touching him, and forcing him to do what he wanted. The fear seemed to be driven back by the anger that he was letting his self feel. Not all of the memories came through; there were only bits and pieces, all melding together. Flashes of light and then black and then the colors swirling around him. Cold so intense that he was sure he was going to die, and the feeling of being caked in filth.

His feelings seemed to go numb, and he could feel himself giving into the fact that he had no choice, he was going to be with his father forever, and it was all because his brothers didn't want him, they had given him to the one man on this earth that made him feel worthless, and as close to being nothing as a person could feel. He could hear his father saying it to him, while he was pawing at him, forcing himself on him. "They gave you to me. They don't want you. The only person who cares about you is me. I am all you have, so you gotta learn to deal with me, and forget about them." His voice screamed the words in his head so loud that it jolted him out of his sleep.

Hands were wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him off of the ground. He realized he was sobbing, but when he tried to look around it was pitch black. Something inside of his brain told him to open his eyes. He let them slide open a little and found he was in the middle of the living room. Angel was in front of him, looking at him. "I think he's awake." He spoke calmly. Jerry was moving around behind Angel, but Craig couldn't quite get his vision to focus enough to see what he was doing.

"You awake?" Bobby's voice spoke from behind him, close to his ear.

Craig felt his body moving downward, until his feet touched the floor, though he hadn't answered Bobby. Once his feet had made contact to something substantial he found himself trying to pull away from his brother.

"Woe, kid, calm down," Bobby held onto him a little tighter, pulling him back up off the floor.

Craig felt his body starting to shiver hard, but he wasn't cold. He wanted out of Bobby's hold; he didn't like the feel of his brother touching him. He didn't like the way the voices around him seemed to grind into his skin. He wanted to be alone, he liked the peace that being alone seemed to bring him. He tried using his hands to pry Bobby's arms from around him, but it did no good, the man simply hung on, and turned to walk into the dining room with him.

"Okay, I think you've have enough napping for one day. You can stay up and spend some time with us." Bobby stood him next to the bed. When Craig tried to crawl into the bed, the man grabbed him and pulled him back. "Kid, you've pissed yourself. Don't be crawling into the bed." Bobby spoke quietly, turning Craig around to face him.

Craig looked down at his wet pants. He hadn't felt it before. His frustration was building and he felt confused. His mind was trying to flash the pictures from his nightmare in front of him and he was trying to fight that down and stay aware of what was going on around him.

"Jack went to get some clothes for you, why don't you get out of those wet things and we'll get you cleaned up." Bobby instructed him, but he let go of him. He seemed to know it upset him to be grabbed. The man seemed to be thinking hard as he stared at the boy.

Jack walked in with clean underpants and sweatpants, a wet washcloth and towel, and let Bobby take them. "Do you need any help?" He asked quietly.

"I think the fewer people around the better. Isn't that what you said earlier?" Bobby looked at Jack.

Jack nodded his head and walked to the living room.

Craig blocked out the conversation between his brothers and stared at his wet pants, wondering what he was going to do to fix the mess. He didn't hear Bobby telling him to take them off. He didn't hear Bobby telling him it was okay. It took his brain a long moment to register Bobby's hand waving in front of his eyes. He looked up at the man, wondering what he wanted and wishing he would leave him alone.

"Take them off." Bobby repeated the words slowly. Craig waited for a moment to see if the colors were going to come back before following the instructions, slowly.

Bobby let him wash himself off with a wash cloth and then dry himself with the towel. He handed him the clean clothes and let him dress himself. When he was done he moved to crawl back into the bed, but Bobby grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. "You are gonna stay up for a while. Come on, you can curl up on the couch and spend some time with your big brothers before Jerry leaves. He's going to be going home soon."

Craig felt his brother pulling him to the living room, though he mentally tried to block out the movement. He wanted to stay in the dining room, away from them. He wanted to block everything out of his mind for as long as he could. He felt Bobby pushing him down onto the couch next to Jack, and then the man sunk into the couch on his other side. Bobby slid his arm around Craig's shoulders and pulled him over next to him. "Are you cold?" Bobby asked when Craig started to shiver again. Craig didn't answer, but Jack was pulling the afghan off the back of the couch and dropping in on him. Bobby adjusted the cover and then pulled his arm back to hold it across his stomach.

Craig pulled his legs up on the couch without thinking about it, curling them up under him, under the cover. He experienced the same feeling of being safe rising in him as he'd felt in the car a few hours earlier. He let his head rest on Bobby's shoulder, and he felt his own arms hugging onto his brother's arm, pulling it close to him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on thinking about nothing. He heard his brothers talking quietly, but ignored what was being said, afraid that listening too much would bring the colors back, and he didn't want them, not now.

After what seemed a long time Camille came in through the front door. Craig felt the movement in the room as Jerry stood and met his wife, kissing on her and hugging her close. He opened his eyes and watched as his brother had his reunion with his wife. The two of them smiled at each other between speaking quietly.

Jerry was in a hurry to go; he wanted to get home to his daughters but Camille took a few minutes to make her rounds. She walked over to Angel and asked him about his arm. How was it healing? Did it hurt? Craig stared at the soft splint on Angel's arm, noticing it for the first time because of Camille's attention to it.

Then Camille turned to Jack and asked him if he was taking his medication like he was supposed to. Sofi's mother had only spent one night in the house, and she wasn't there to watch over him now, and she was worried that he wasn't following the doctor's instructions, with no one there to police his actions. He was feeling better, with the tube out of his chest, but she warned him not to overdo it.

Craig listened to the words, realizing he hadn't thought about Jack's injuries, or what had happened to him since he'd been separated from his brothers. Apparently plenty had happened that he wasn't aware of, or that he didn't remember. His anger at his brothers was starting to change slowly to a feeling of guilt, and he wasn't sure why. Why had he been away from them, and what had happened to them?

Camille looked at Bobby. "Did you ever get your prescription filled?" She asked him, her arms crossing in front of her stomach as she stepped up to stand over him. "You can't play with broken ribs Bobby, that's serious." She warned.

Bobby smiled up at her. "Yeah, I got it, and I'm fine, okay? Your husband's bump on the head needs more attention than my ribs. Why don't you take him home and nurse him back to health?"

Camille leaned over and gave Bobby a quick hug. She reached out and rested a hand on Craig's shoulder, "You're doin' okay baby?" She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head. "You just take it easy, and if these guys give you a hard time, you give me a call. I'll come over and straighten them all up." She smiled and pulled back. "You say goodbye and I'll meet you in the car." She turned to Jerry briefly before walking out the door.

Angel and Jack both stood to hug Jerry and tell him to take it easy. Jerry said something to Jack about not doing too much, no matter how much better he was feeling, and then he turned and looked at Bobby. "Man, you know I love ya." He stepped over and leaned down to give Bobby a half hug. He looked at Craig but didn't move to hug him. "Craig, I love you little brother. You're gonna feel better, that's a promise. You feel really bad right now, we all know that, but you're gonna feel better, and things are gonna get better. You just wait, we're gonna have a great Christmas." He grinned wide at the boy and then stood and headed towards the door.

"Man that makes me wish my woman was right here next to me." Angel spoke as he stood back up. "I'm gonna go up and spend some time with her." He smiled at his brothers and then walked out of the room, his footsteps pounding fast on the stairs a moment later.

Jack looked over at Bobby. "You gonna stay down here with him or take him up to Mom's room?" He asked quietly.

"He needs to stay awake for a while. I think he's been sleeping too much. Besides, it isn't even six o'clock yet. It's too early for bed." Bobby glanced down at the boy. "Isn't that right kid?"

Craig didn't look up. He would have preferred being alone, having the chance to escape the feelings that still seemed to be swelling up in him and changing continuously.

"Well then, why don't you get us some food?" Jack looked pointedly at Bobby. "Sofi made some chicken soup, and it's ready anytime you dish it out."

"Me?" Bobby returned the look to Jack. "Why don't you get us some food? You've been goin' on and on about how much better you feel." He laughed. "You can handle carrying some fucking soup, right?"

Both men looked at each other for what seemed forever before both turned to look towards the stairway. "Angel!" They yelled out in unison.

Craig thought about the exchange for a moment. His brothers were playing, he knew that. They were doing what they always did, and it felt normal, and that made him feel a little more normal, at least for the moment. It was feeling like he was finally home. He pulled his head further up Bobby's shoulder, and drew in a deep breath. He opened his mouth and spoke quietly, before he even realized he was thinking the thought. "I want pizza." He muttered.

Bobby's head snapped around to look at him. "Well, then, pizza it is." He spoke as if he were trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.

Jack stood slowly as Angel came running down the stairs, looking worried. "What?" The man spoke loudly.

"Craig wants pizza. You got any money?" Jack started pulling his wallet out of his pants pocket to dig for some cash.

"Pizza," Angel looked down at Bobby. "You think that's the best thing for him right now? Sofi has a big pot of chicken soup on the stove."

"Angel, the kid said he wanted pizza. Hell, I would rather have pizza. No offense to Sofi, but we can have the soup tomorrow. She won't have to worry about any cooking on Christmas Eve that way; she can concentrate on the Christmas dinner she's so set on cooking." Bobby looked up at Angel and pointed to Craig with his free hand. "He said he wanted pizza." He was aware that Angel didn't believe him.

Angel looked down at Craig, who was still looking downward, not saying anything else. "You want pizza?" He directed the question to Craig, as if he wanted proof that the boy has spoken the request himself.

Craig looked up at Angel. "Yeah, I want pizza, why is that so difficult to grasp?" He didn't mean to be sarcastic; he was actually saying what he felt. It confused him that his one request seemed to take on so much importance.

Bobby laughed, and Jack grinned wide as he looked at Angel. "Yeah, Angel, why is that so difficult to grasp?" He teased as he shoved some money in the man's direction.

Angel snatched the money from Jack's hand. "Fuck you." He spoke to him, but he grinned. He looked back down to Craig. "What do you want on your pizza?" He asked.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "I don't care." He muttered.

"Okay then, we'll get the usual?" Angel asked him.

Craig nodded his head. "Okay."

"You want something to drink besides that apple juice Bobby insisted on us buying? Do you want some soda?" Jack sat back down on the couch, tossing his wallet onto the coffee table.

"Can I have some root beer?" Craig asked, directing his gaze to Jack.

"You can have some root beer." Bobby managed to pull his arm out of the hug Craig had on it and slid it around him shoulders. "You want anything else?"

Craig shook his head slowly, and looked up at Bobby. A picture of his brother above him, reaching down and grabbing him as he was falling into icy cold water, washed over him. "You caught me." He felt that short flash of memory was important, but he wasn't sure why.

Bobby nodded his head and looked down at the boy for a long moment. "Yeah, I caught you." He spoke quietly, seeming to understand Craig's statement.

"What happened?" Craig asked in a small voice.

"You don't remember?" Bobby asked, a strange look crossing his face. "You don't know what happened?"

Craig shook his head, and started to pull away from Bobby, suddenly feeling less than normal again.

"No, you stay here." Bobby pulled him back to him and held him there. "It's okay. The doctor said you might not remember much at first, that's expected." His voice was quiet. He drew in a deep breath before he spoke again. "You were falling into some water; me and Angel, we ran as fast as we could to get to you. I caught you before you fell all the way in, and we pulled you up to where you were safe. That's all; it's not a big deal. We're your big brothers; we had to save you, right?" He laughed, trying to lighten the heaviness that Craig was feeling in the air.

Craig thought about Bobby's words, feeling more confused by them. "Why can't I remember?" He asked in a weak voice.

"Because it was scary, and you don't want to remember right now. You'll remember when you feel safe enough to remember." Bobby spoke slowly. "Until then, you don't worry about it. You need to ask questions when you have them, and we'll answer them if we can, but we aren't going to tell you what happened until you remember it on your own, okay? I don't care if you never remember, and you shouldn't either. You just have to remember one thing, your brothers are here, and we aren't gonna let anything hurt you."

After a few moments of silence Angel cleared his throat. "Okay, I'm gonna go order this pizza, and root beer." He headed for the stairs.

"What, you can't order from down here?" Bobby turned his head and looked over at Angel.

"I gotta see if Sofi wants anything." Angel called back as he headed back up the stairs.

"Yeah, you just wanna make out with her while you're waiting for the food to get here!" Bobby called out and laughed.

"Damn straight." Angel called back just before the sound of his bed room door slamming hard sounded through the house.

Bobby laughed again and looked at Jack. "Aren't you glad we're home?" He asked jokingly.

"Damn straight." Jack spoke seriously, reaching out to pat Craig on the arm. "So, what do you want to do until the pizza get's here?" He asked.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. His mind sparked with the realization that Bobby didn't like for him to do that. "I don't care." He muttered.

"You want to play some checkers?" Jack offered.

Craig shook his head. "Not really."

"You want to watch a movie?" Bobby offered. "Angel found a box of movies in the attic. What the fuck is Harry Potter?" He asked.

Craig didn't try to answer his brother's question. He thought that things were feeling more like normal than he'd remembered. He felt comfortable, though he still felt confusion inside; the frustration and anger was trying hard to push back out, but he was fighting it down; he wanted to feel comfortable for a while, and take in the security that being home was offering him at the moment. He wanted to be angry, but at the same time, he was focusing on that short memory of his brother catching him, and that's what he wanted to hold onto, it felt more important.


	54. Chapter 54

As always, let me know what you think, and thanks to all for reading! :)

Legal statement still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 54: Flashbacks**

Jack put one of the Harry Potter movies in, as Bobby had suggested, and though Craig was trying to watch the movie, he found his mind seemed to drift off into unknown thoughts for minutes at a time. Bobby would give him a slight squeeze, as if he knew the boy's mind was wandering. Each time it happened Craig was lost as to what he'd been thinking about, and it scared him a little. He couldn't get his mind to focus on the movie, and if he hadn't seen it a hundred times already he would have been completely confused by the events that were taking place on the screen.

Angel and Sofi came downstairs a few minutes before the pizza arrived. They ate their pizza in the living room, but Sofi was sure to give them all paper plates. Bobby handed Craig a plate with a slice of pizza and his bottle of root beer and then started filling his own plate.

Craig sat back in the couch and took a bite of the pizza, and was amazed at how good it tasted to him. He felt as if he hadn't had pizza in years. He opened his bottle of root beer and took a sip, and the taste and sensation of it stimulated something in his brain. He took another sip and felt the colors stirring around in his head. They started dancing around in front of him. He reached out with his left hand to see if he could catch them, but they just swirled around his fingers, entwining around them, and moving up his arm.

Bobby turned and looked at him. "Craig?" He had been laughing at something that Angel had said, but now the laughter was fading from his voice.

"I don't like the colors anymore." Craig muttered, staring at the dizzing colored lines moving around his arm.

Bobby put his pizza down, and reached for Craig's plate, which was resting on his lap. "What the fuck are you talking about?" He sounded confused by the boy's statement.

"I don't like them anymore." Craig muttered, watching as his plate and then his bottle was pulled away from him, the swirls of blue and pink wrapping up his arms, and squeezing into him, starting to sting as they tightened their hold, he tried to smack them away. "Make them stop." He heard his voice, and the sound of it seemed to send rainbow sparkles out into the room, floating above the heads of his brothers, and then spin around Sofi before shooting straight up to the ceiling where the spread out like clouds, churning around, trying to escape. The air around him seemed to grow thick and push against him.

"Shit." Jack muttered. "He's trippin'." He looked at Bobby. "Like acid or something."

"What?" Bobby looked at Jack before reaching towards Craig.

Bobby's hand started to slide across Craig's shoulders and the feeling of it seemed to slice through him and scream loudly, filling the room with an ear piercing screech. Craig pushed at Bobby, trying to get him away, to stop the touch-screeching sensation that was filling the room. He pulled himself back across the couch, but that only backed him into Jack, who was dropping his plate of pizza onto the coffee table quickly.

Jack turned just in time to wrap both arms around the boy's shoulder from behind. Craig didn't seem to notice the hold on him. He watched as the swirls of color around his arm seemed to transform into spiders and started to crawl around on him. He started scratching at them and he felt his heart starting to beat against the inside of his chest, hard and fast.

"Craig, just lay back and let it happen. It will stop." Jack whispered in his ear. "It's not real." He leaned back, pulling the boy back with him; while Bobby grabbed his hands and held on to keep him from scratching at his arms.

"Get them off of me, please?" Craig watched as more spiders ran onto him from nowhere, thousands of them. His brothers seemed to fade out of sight and he was laying on a dirt floor, in the dark. The air was cold and black, but he could still see the spiders, swarming over him, laughing at him.

He could hear his brothers talking from somewhere on the other side of the dark and the spiders. "Craig, you have to calm down, it's not real. Just relax, it will go away." Jack's voice was saying to him.

"Angel, you got that number for the doctor? He's gonna have to see him tonight, he can't wait for morning." Bobby was talking loud.

"I got it. I'll call him now." Angel answered, but he sounded far away.

The spiders started crawl up towards Craig's face, and he could see his father's head attached to each little body, and they were all screaming at him, awful things, things that they were going to do to him, and make him do. Then one spider stopped, and seemed to grow in size, his arms and legs taking on the whole form of Adam Macks, lying on top of him, holding him down and telling him it was time for him to do his duty.

"Bobby!" Craig felt his voice scream out, and it seemed to shatter the vision of Adam Macks and the spiders, and the darkness. It all fell away as if it had been a sheet of glass, the shards of it scattering and making loud clinking sounds that reverberated throughout his head, revealing Bobby, holding onto his hands directly in front of him. He pulled away from the arms wrapped around him and shot straight into the man, who released his hands to bring his arms around him. He pushed himself as hard as he could into the man and clutched at him. "Please don't let him get me. Please? I'll be good, I promise, but don't let him take me." He felt the sobs wracking at him, but couldn't stop them. He squeezed his eyes closed tight, and grasped at the man as if he were going to disappear.

Bobby held onto him tight. "It's okay Craig, he's gone." He spoke quietly to the boy. "He's not coming back." He said the words slowly, repeating them again, as if to make his point.

Craig felt a calming warmth rise up inside of him. "He's gone?" He spoke into Bobby's chest, his voice sounding weak, and small.

"He's gone." Bobby held onto him a little tighter.

Craig felt the colors retreat to the back of his mind. He held onto Bobby for a little while, waiting for something else to happen, for more colors, or spiders. After a while he forgot what it was that he was expecting to attack him. He could hear Angel talking quietly, and he seemed to be in the next room. When he opened his eyes and looked around him, he remembered the pizza. "Can I have my pizza?" He asked quietly, the waking nightmare seemed to vanish from his thoughts.

Bobby pulled him back enough to look at him. "Can you eat it okay?" He still looked confused.

Craig nodded his head. "I'm sorry." He muttered, though he wasn't sure why he was apologizing, he felt he needed to.

Bobby looked past him, to Jack and then looked back down at him. "Okay, you eat your pizza, and then we're gonna go see the doctor." He spoke the words carefully. "We made a special appointment for you to see him in the morning, but I think you need to see him tonight, okay?"

Craig nodded his head. He sat back on the couch and let Bobby hand him his pizza and root beer. He was back to eating when Angel walked back into the room. Angel looked down at him and then to Bobby. "The doctor said he could be there in an hour. Is that okay?" He asked.

Bobby sat back in his seat and looked at Craig, who was now eating as if nothing had happened. "Yeah, it's fine. He can finish his food that way." He looked up at Angel and shrugged his shoulders.

Angel looked confused, but he sat down and picked up his own food while he glanced over at Sofi, who seemed as surprised as Angel and Bobby. Angel seemed to want to say something, but he kept looking at Craig and then back to Bobby, a hint of something in his eyes.

* * *

Bobby watched as Jack picked up his own pizza and started eating casually. "Craig, can I have some of your root beer?" He scooted closer to the boy. He looked over Craig's head at Bobby and nodded at him, as if to tell him Craig was fine for the moment.

Craig handed Jack his bottle and let him take a drink while he ate. Bobby looked at Angel and discreetly motioned for him to go to the kitchen with him. He stood, leaving his plate of pizza on the table. "I need to get something to drink." He spoke as casually as he could at the moment. "Not all of us can drink Craig's root beer."

Angel stood as well. "Yeah, I think I could use something myself. He looked at Sofi. "How about you baby?" He asked.

Sofi smiled and shook her head. "I'm fine." She motioned for him to go.

Angel followed Bobby out of the living room. Bobby didn't make a move to get anything to drink once they had reached the kitchen. He turned and looked at Angel, "So, what did the doctor say?" He asked quietly.

Angel shook his head. "I told him that Craig seemed to be acid trippin', and he said that wouldn't be surprising, that the information the children's hospital faxed to him indicated that he'd been pumped full of an LSD cocktail of sorts. There's more than just one drug in his system, ketamine was one of them, looks like there were more, but they haven't been identified yet, and it seemed to be pretty high concentrations, he's probably lucky he's alive." Angel kept his voice down to a whisper. "He will probably want to keep him Bobby; he won't want him coming home until they're sure they have the shit cleaned out of him. He said there's some medication he can put him on to help with the episodes that might pop up, but he can't guarantee that it won't happen again."

Bobby shook his head. "He's not gonna be in no fucking hospital over Christmas. I won't let that happen." He turned and walked over to the refrigerator, pulling out two beers. He handed one to Angel.

"Bobby, we don't know how to handle shit like this. The doctor said to keep a close eye on him; he could go through some big time mood changes." Angel took the beer and twisted the top off. "He said he's probably been having these flashbacks the whole time, just holding it in. I mean he wasn't talking until about an hour ago, right? It makes sense."

Bobby's actions mirrored Angel's, and both took a long drink of the beer before Bobby looked at Angel again. "He ain't gonna spend Christmas in a hospital, that's all there is to it. We'll watch him, and we'll deal with it. He's not gonna be separated from us, he's not gonna spend one fucking night away from this house."

"You want me to call Jerry?" Angel offered.

"No, hell no," Bobby scowled and shook his head quickly, moving his gaze to the prescription bottles lining the counter next to the sink. "Let him have some time with his family, man. He doesn't need to be worryin' about this shit right now, he's barely had a chance to get home and spend time with his girls." Bobby drew in a deep breath and looked back to Angel, "In fact, you don't need to go either, just stay here and keep an eye on Jack and spend some time with Sofi." He spoke calmly. "It would help if you could bag up his medicine bottles and everything, just so I can make sure his doctor knows just what the fuck the other hospital doled out to him, who knows, maybe one of his pills is making it worse?"

Angel nodded his head and went to the pantry for a paper bag. "You might want to take his release papers too, just in case there's something noted on them that you might forget to tell them." He suggested.

Bobby drew in a deep breath and agreed. "Okay, I'm gonna go see if he's done eating. I just pray he don't through a fucking fit about having to go. I don't think he quite realized what I was saying to him before when I told him we were gonna go see the doctor."

Bobby was surprised when he walked back into the living room and told Craig it was time to get ready to leave for the hospital, Craig agreed with no argument. Bobby went out to the car to let it run for a short time to warm up, and when he came back, Craig had a pair of shoes on, and was letting Angel put his coat on him while he sat on the couch. Bobby walked up to him. "Can you walk okay, or do you want me to carry you?" He asked.

"I can walk." Craig muttered.

Bobby nodded his head. "Okay, but you'll let me help you?" He asked while holding a hand out for the boy to grab.

Craig took the hand and let Bobby pull him to his feet. "Why do I have to see a doctor right now?" He asked quietly once Bobby had his arm around his shoulders and was guiding him towards the door.

"Because you don't feel very good, and we want to make sure you're okay." Bobby answered quietly. "Is that okay?" He opened the door and Craig let him pull him on through.

Craig was very cooperative as Bobby put him into the car and put the seat belt on him, in fact he seemed fine with going to a hospital. Bobby let him turn on the radio and play with changing the stations almost the entire ride to the emergency room entrance, although the man hated the constant channel surfing. Craig seemed to be doing it backwards, finding commercials to listen to, and when music came on, he'd reach out and tune it to another commercial.

Bobby walked Craig through the doors; one arm wrapped around his brother, the other cradling the bag of medication Craig had been prescribed. He knew where he was going, and honestly was getting sick of being so familiar with hospitals at that point. He spoke with the woman at the check in, explaining who they were and why they were there. Craig listened, and it wasn't until then that it seemed to hit him what was going on.

Craig waited until the nurse told them to have a seat, that the doctor Bobby was waiting on had called ahead, and would be there any minute, before leaning towards his brother. "Bobby, I don't want to see the doctor." He muttered.

Bobby looked at him. "I know, but I would feel better if you did. Can you do it for me?"

Craig stared at him for a long moment. "I don't want to see a doctor." His tone sounded a little stiff the second time he made the statement.

Bobby nodded his head. "Well, we dragged him all the way down here, so why don't we sit down and wait for him, so we can at least tell him that you changed your mind, okay?" He spoke the words casually.

Craig made a face, but he silently agreed by nodding his head. Bobby kept his hold on him while he walked him over to a comfortable looking couch and sat down with him. He helped Craig pull out of his coat, and then grabbed hold on his hand, afraid for some reason that the boy was going to get up and run out of there.

The doctor walked from a set of double doors ten minutes later. He walked to where Bobby was sitting with Craig, and pulled one of the single chairs over so that he could sit in front of them. "Craig, we have to stop meeting like this." He smiled.

Craig made a face and purposely turned away from the man. It was obvious that he recognized him as the same doctor who had treated him in the emergency room after his ordeal with Victor Sweet, the same doctor who had checked him over on his follow up exam. The same doctor that had given him the scope; had treated him for the injuries that Sweet had inflicted on him, and who had just released him from his care a few short days earlier.

Craig looked up at Bobby. "I don't want to see him." He muttered.

The doctor drew in a deep breath. "Craig, I just want to check you over real quick, okay? It won't take long, and then you can go back home and have a great Christmas."

The doctor reached out as if he were going to pat Craig on the arm, and Craig pulled back, not towards Bobby, but away from both men, jerking his hand from Bobby's grasp. "No, don't touch me." He spoke the words hatefully, and Bobby was a little surprised to hear it coming from him.

"Craig, I won't have that from you, and you know it." Bobby reached out quickly and grabbed hold of the boy's hand. He held on tight despite the fact that his younger brother attempted to pull his hand away again. "Why don't we let the Doc' take a look at you real quick, since we're here, and then we can go home?" He was trying to stay calm. He was trying to remember that the kid wasn't firing on all pistons at that moment, and didn't mean to act like some spoiled brat, but at the same time, it rubbed at his nerves to hear the tone of voice that had come out of the boy's mouth. He didn't like the look on his face when he'd pulled away from him, and he wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to control his own urge to pop the boy good, and warn him about acting like some delinquent off the streets. His mother hadn't raised any of her sons to speak to adults with disrespect while they were growing up. She always said they didn't have to agree with all adults, but they had to speak to them with respect, at least adults they knew they could trust, and at least while they were within earshot.

If the kid had pulled this attitude a week earlier he would have been put over Bobby's knee and some education would have been applied to the well cushioned portion of his ass, but he couldn't do that now, not when he knew the kid wasn't able to control his actions. He was more than at a loss for how to handle the situation, other than to make sure he had control of the kid, no matter what.

"I don't want to." Craig tried again to pull free of Bobby's grip, but it did no good. He kept his head turned away, not looking at the man.

Bobby stood and gave the boy a hard tug, pulling him to his feet. "You are going to let the man look at you. Throwing a fu-freaking tantrum is not gonna work." He managed to curb his choice of words at the last moment, glancing at the few people who were sitting close by, waiting for their chance to get in for emergency care.

Craig didn't try to pull away from Bobby as the doctor stood and led them back through the double doors he'd just come through minutes before, though he dragged his feet, and forced the man to give him a tug several times before they reached the examining room that had been readied specifically for their visit.

"Craig, you can have a seat on the table." The doctor walked over to the counter where it appeared Craig's file and other papers were laying out. He started writing something down in the file.

Bobby found he had to lift Craig onto the table, because the boy seemed to have decided not to do whatever was being asked of him. He could tell at that moment that it was going to be one very long evening. He was tired, his ribs were hurting, and his patience was about used up. He made sure that he was right next to the boy, ready to grab him if he tried to get off of the table and make a run for the door.

The doctor on the other hand seemed to ignore the fact that Craig was refusing to answer any of the questions that he asked him. After a few minutes of watching the man listen to Craig's chest and then his back with his stethoscope, he realized the doctor was mostly chatting with the teen to try to make the experience seem more normal. He took his blood pressure, and stuck a thermometer into his mouth, talking about sports, and Christmas, and the new year that was just around the corner.

Craig let him do it all, but didn't respond to any of the questions or comments, nor did he look at either of the men if he could avoid it. Every word the doctor spoke was calm, and in a quiet tone. He didn't demand the boy do anything, he'd ask him, and that tactic seemed to start working by the time he was ready to shine the light into his eyes to check his pupils.

Bobby was ready for Craig to start fighting when the doctor announced he needed to get some blood, and then would be giving Craig a shot. Craig watched the doctor prepare the needle, and reached out for Bobby's arm with his free hand when the man started swabbing his arm, prepping the area of skin he was going to penetrate.

Bobby stepped a little closer, welcoming the boy's need to hold onto him, and hoping that it was a sign that his mood was swinging in another direction.

After the injection, Craig seemed to mellow out, and calm down. He started responding to the doctor's questions, answering them the best he could. They were simple questions, asking him how old he was, what was his middle name, what grade in school was he in. Did he know what day it was? Did he know what year? To Bobby's surprise, the boy seemed a little lost for most of the answers and that frightened him more than anything. The doctor checked the medications that Bobby had brought with him, and quickly changed most of the prescriptions that were in the bag. "Most of what they gave him will make his condition worse, especially that cough syrup." He told Bobby. "I'm glad you had the sense to bring these with you." He made sure that Bobby left with full bottles of the new medications. "He should come out of this in a day or two. I would rather keep him here, to keep him under close watch." He stated. "If you have any issues at all, if he seems to get worse, or if he stops talking completely again, you get his ass back in here." He spoke with a warning to his voice. "Chances are, nothing else will happen, but don't chance it if there is the slightest sign."

Bobby agreed and helped Craig into his coat. The teen was looking tired, and groggy. He hadn't said a word since they had gotten to the examining room, and Bobby was sure he wouldn't be talking the rest of the night. The look Craig gave him was one of anger, the man could see it, and he could feel it. He knew the kid was feeling as if he'd been tricked. Yeah, he had lied to him, in the waiting area of the emergency room, when he'd told him they would just wait for the doctor and tell him they had changed their minds, but he'd had to do something to get him in there. He just hoped that once Craig came around to some normal thinking that he would understand, or let him explain it to him. He felt like shit for lying to him, but he had to make sure the doctor checked him over, and he'd had to keep him calm. He swore to himself at that moment that he would never lie to the kid again, no matter what. He couldn't stand to see that look on his face.


	55. Chapter 55

This one might seem a little pointless, but it does have a purpose for later, I promise :) Thanks for reading, and please keep telling me your thoughts!

Legal stuff still counts for this one...

* * *

**Chapter 55: Restless Emotions**

Craig sat in the front seat of the car; feeling more relaxed than he had since he'd woke up in the hospital. His body felt relaxed, but his mind was spinning around with random thoughts about Bobby lying to him, about Bobby bossing him around, and Bobby treating him like a little kid, talking to him as if he were five years old. Each thought brought on more irritation, and fueled the anger he was feeling towards his brother. The anger felt good, but he was scared of it. He wanted something else, but it didn't seem he could quite grasp what it was, and for now his anger was all he had.

Somewhere in his mind he knew that he had to stop clinging to his brother every time things got scary, and he to stop right then. A good example was the moment the doctor pulled out his needle, the fourteen year old had grabbed for Bobby out of desperation, needing to feel him in order to feel safe. He'd prayed the man would tell the doctor not to take his blood from him, or inject anything into him, but Bobby had let him do it, and that had been one more item Craig added to his list of things to be pissed at Bobby for. It seemed he was trying to find things to stay mad about.

Now he was riding quietly in the car, watching as street lights whizzed past, the colored Christmas lights overhead seemed to streak with zigzag lines with the movement of the car, but they didn't do anything more than that. They didn't invade his brain, or dance in front of him. He was thankful for that, and maybe the shot the doctor had given him had helped to get rid of the color show his brain had been so set on putting on for him, he wasn't sure. He only knew that he was pissed at Bobby, and he wanted to stay pissed at him for a while, it felt good to feel something other than fear.

He had no idea what time it was, but it felt late. When they got back to the house the lights were mostly off, only the Christmas tree was still lit, and the dim glow was visible from the front porch windows. Bobby stopped the car and looked at him from the driver's seat. Craig started to take off his seat belt to get out of the car, but Bobby grabbed hold of his arm. "You stay in that seat until I come around for you." The man told him. Craig didn't bother to answer him, though the idea that he wasn't allowed to get out of the car on his own fuelled his negative emotions towards the man at that moment. He sat and waited for Bobby to walk around the front end of the car to his side and open his door before he pulled off his seat belt.

Craig started to pull his arm away from Bobby when the man reached in to help him climb out of the car, but Bobby only took a more firm hold as soon as the slightest resistance was shown. He didn't have a choice but to let Bobby pull him out of car. His brother slammed the door closed hard, and then pulled him to the house.

When they walked through the front door, the house was quiet. The living room was empty, and there seemed to be no sound at all. Bobby pulled him to the couch and took his coat off of him. "Get your shoes off and sit down." The man spoke quietly. "I'll go get your pills sorted out and bring them in for you." He turned and walked out of the room, the bag full of prescription bottles gripped in his hand.

Craig sat on the couch and started taking off his shoes. He knew Bobby was going to make him go to bed now, and he didn't want to go to bed. He wanted some lights turned on, and he wanted some time to himself to just think. He looked over at the desk in the corner and wondered if his sketch pad was in the drawer. He pushed his shoes under the coffee table and then moved to the desk to look for his paper and pencil. He opened the drawer and dug around a little, but there was no sign of it. He could hear Bobby in the kitchen, moving around, though the sounds were faint. He stood and headed for the stairs, wanting to get his sketch pad. Now that his mind had fallen on the possibility of retreating into its self and getting his emotions onto paper, he couldn't let the idea go.

He stepped as lightly as he could on the stairs, trying to remember which ones would let out a loud groan, and doing his best to avoid them. He didn't expect his body to feel so drained once he'd reached the top. He stopped for a second, leaning on the wall, to let his lungs suck in some air. His chest was starting to feel tight, but he didn't want to cough and signal to anyone that he had wandered away from the living room, he was sure Bobby would throw one of his fits if he found him upstairs at that moment. Part of his brain could care less about Bobby being pissed, but another part of him was cautioning him about Bobby's form of punishment, and his butt cheeks tightened slightly at the memory of Bobby busting his ass. He wondered why he felt the need to make his brother mad, he didn't understand it, but he was feeling a little bit of satisfaction that he was disobeying the man, even about something that seemed so meaningless. Maybe it was because it was something small. He was sure he wouldn't have the nerve to do anything that would really piss Bobby off; at least, he didn't think so.

He walked into his room and turned on the light. His bed was neatly made; everything seemed to be in its place, except for the paper bag that was sitting on his dresser, and the cardboard box resting on the floor at the foot of his bed. He stood there, staring at his bed, his dresser, and his clothes hanging on the rack. Somehow it just didn't feel like his room right then.

The box on the floor looked familiar, and when he stepped up to it, he could see his school books stacked neatly inside. His sketch pad rested on the side, tucked safely in with his books. He pulled the pad out and checked to be sure the pencil was still trapped between the pages. It seemed to be the only thing that really felt like his, and he felt relieved to find it so easily. He thought that it seemed stupid to feel that much relief at knowing his pictures were safe, and back in his hands, but he couldn't help it. When he turned back to the door Bobby was standing there, his arms crossed at his chest.

Yeah, he'd pissed Bobby off. The man's jaw was set firm, and his eyes were boring into him, narrowed down into slits on either side of his nose. "What part of 'sit down' didn't you understand?" Bobby asked the question quietly, and he looked as if he were trying hard not to yell.

Craig swallowed hard and held his sketch pad close to him. He still didn't feel like speaking to Bobby. He didn't want to say a word to the man; it would only grate on his nerves, having to talk to him at that moment. It was fine, Bobby could be pissed; he didn't care. He had his sketch pad, and if Bobby yelled at him, it was worth it.

"You ain't gonna stay up all night drawing." Bobby shook his head. "You could have asked me to get that for you, I would have. But you ain't doing shit with it tonight." Bobby motioned for Craig to move out of the room. "It's late, you need to take your medicine and then we're going to lie down on the couch and get some sleep."

Craig hesitated for a moment, not sure if he wanted to push Bobby any further at right then. He didn't want to go to sleep. He wanted to look through his drawings and maybe try to draw a little bit. He looked at the expression on Bobby's face, and it was obvious that the man wasn't going to let him stay up. He decided not to press his luck. Bobby hadn't grabbed him and started beating his ass yet, and he didn't want to push him to that point. He stepped past his brother, and let the man turn the light off and pull the door closed. He started to make his way down the steps, but Bobby reached out and grabbed hold of his arm.

"You don't go up and down these stairs by yourself Craig. You're still healing from some shit, and you aren't as strong as you think right now. The last thing I need is you falling down the stairs." Bobby held onto him all the way back to the couch. He let go of the boy and watched him sit down before sitting down on the coffee table. He had the cough syrup dosed out in a cup, the pills all laying out on a paper towel, and a glass of apple juice waiting on the table next to him.

Bobby handed him the syrup first, and once that was down he started giving him the pills, seven of them in all, and Craig couldn't understand what was so wrong with him that he needed that many pills. He took them, but he didn't want to.

Bobby pointed to the end of the couch close to the Christmas tree, where a pillow was waiting. "Lay down."

Craig stared at the man for a long moment before doing what the man said. He scooted down the couch, still clutching onto his sketch pad, and turned his body, pulling his legs up onto the couch. He laid back into the pillow and watched as Bobby shoved the coffee table up to the couch to prevent him from moving off of the cushions, then gathered up the empty glass, the dosage cup from the syrup, and the paper towel he'd had the pills on, and walked out of the room.

Craig twisted his body around to lie on his side, facing the room, and hugged his pad to him. He saw the kitchen light turn off a minute later, and then he seen Bobby walking into the dining room. He could hear Jack's quiet voice as Bobby moved to the back wall, where Jack's bed set. He could hear the two of the talking, but it was brief, and Bobby was coming into the living room a minute later. Bobby walked over to the Christmas tree and turned the lights off before settling in on the other end of the couch, his legs stretching out on the coffee table.

"It's time to go to sleep. Put the pad on the table, it's not going anywhere." Bobby sounded as if he'd calmed down.

Craig held onto the pad a little tighter, not wanting to give it up. He wanted to hold onto it, and feel the safety of it next to him. It was the only way he was going to be able to keep from crawling up the couch to cling onto Bobby, he was sure of that. The dark around him was starting to close in, and he didn't want to close his eyes and sleep. He wasn't sure what was waiting for him on the other side of reality, and it frightened him. He'd been fighting off the nightmares and colors, even while he was awake, he was sure it would only get worse if he went to sleep. Feeling that scared only made him more frustrated. He could feel his muscles tense up on him, and he felt his chest growing tight. The bandage covering his chest was starting to itch at him, and though he knew he should know why his chest was taped up with a bandage, his mind couldn't quite bring the memory back to him. The itching only made him feel more irritated, and Bobby was the only one around to blame that on. He was sure that if he could go up to his room he'd feel more comfortable, but Bobby wouldn't let him. He knew it would be pointless to ask, if he were speaking to the man at that time.

"You're only going to roll around with it in your sleep, and tear it up, so put it on the table." Bobby's voice brought him out of his thoughts and reminded him just what it was that he was struggling to keep hold of. He didn't want to let go of his sketchpad. It was more than just a book full of pictures that he'd drawn, it was part of him, and he needed it at that moment.

Another minute later, when Craig still hadn't followed his brother's instructions, Bobby sat up, grabbed the pad and dropped it onto the table. "Don't pick it back up." The man dropped back down on his end of the couch. "I want you to go to sleep Craig, it's late, and we're both tired."

Craig felt a shiver run down him, and apparently Bobby felt it too. The man sat up long enough grab the blanket that had been folded neatly and laid over the back of the couch, in its proper place. He unfolded it and then dropped it carefully over the boy. He wasn't really cold, the chill had come more from the fear that he was fighting down, and the need to cling to Bobby despite the anger he was feeling for him, but he welcomed the comfort of his mother's knitted afghan resting over him, hoping it would offer that feeling of being protected that he was yearning right then. He stared at the different shades of black cast about the room by the chairs, the tables, and the rest of the furnishings.

That room was supposed to be familiar to him, supposed to be comforting, but at that moment it seemed foreign and hostile. He fought off the urge to move up to lay next to Bobby where he could feel safe, but if he did that he'd have to give up the anger that he was feeling inside, and he wasn't ready to do that, though at the same time he didn't really understand it. Besides, he had to stop depending on Bobby, and start taking care of himself. What if Bobby decided he didn't want him? The nagging feeling that Bobby had given him up once wouldn't unclench from his gut, and the feeling seemed so strong.

He was growing restless, there in the dark, and he was starting to feel closed in. He turned onto his back, hoping not staring at the shadows would help him relax, but staring up at the ceiling wasn't much better. He tried to stretch his legs out a little, but Bobby was in the way on the other end of the couch. He turned himself over to his right side, facing the back of the couch, but that only made him feel as if the walls were closing in around him. He returned to his back, and stared at the ceiling for nearly a full minute before moving back to his left side. A car drove up the street, and the headlights seemed to move across the room, stretching the shadows out and transforming them into the shapes of monsters stretching their arms out towards him.

His gaze fell on the sketchpad resting close to him, on the coffee table. He reached out towards it, wanting to feel it next to him. The pages held parts of himself that he felt had been ripped away, and he wanted them back, close, where he could feel them. As soon as his fingers touched the pad, he felt Bobby sitting up. The man reached for his arm and pulled his hand back. "I told you not to pick it up." His voice sounded heavy, as if he were half asleep. "If you need to talk to me Craig, then talk. But I'm not going to let you hide from the shit by crawling into a damn pad of paper."

Craig tried to pull his arm free from Bobby's grip, but the man gave him a tug which forced him to sit up, and then he pulled him up to his end of the couch. Bobby turned onto his side, and dropped Craig between him and the back of the couch. "If you don't want to talk to me, then you go to sleep." He muttered; his legs moving further onto the end of the coffee table to make more room for Craig next to him.

Craig held in the frustration his brother's action was stirring up. He didn't want to sleep that close to Bobby, he didn't want to sleep at all, and he was getting tired of the man telling him what to do all of the time. He needed some time to himself, alone, away from all of his brothers. He didn't understand why he couldn't sleep in his own bed, in his own room. After several minutes, Bobby's breathing seemed to slow down, and grew a bit shallow. Craig was sure he was asleep, and he started to move back the end of the couch that held his pillow.

Bobby's arm reached up, and Craig felt himself being pulled back down. "What the fuck is your problem?" Bobby asked. "You feel bad, I know that. You're pissed at me for the hospital visit, I got that too. You want to bitch at me for it then bitch at me. I'm sorry you're feelin like shit, and I'm sorry you had to see a doctor. Bitch all you want. It would get it out of your system, and you'd feel better. I'm sick of the silent treatment, and I don't like you doin' shit after I've told you not to. I'm running real low on patience with you, and if you don't straighten up your ass, I'm gonna straighten it up for you." The man leaned closer to Craig, speaking right into his ear as if he wanted to be sure he was well heard.

Craig felt his eyes tearing up, and wasn't sure why. He was confused, and he didn't know what to do about it. He wanted Bobby to make things better, but he felt so damn pissed at the man, and to be honest he wasn't all that sure as to why. He was letting his emotions well up, finding every reason to stay mad, it felt good to be angry, but at the same time he would have preferred to be able to let go of it.

"Now, either you talk to me, or you go to sleep. It's up to you."Bobby rested back on the couch, but left his arm around the boy. "I'm not going anywhere, so if you start talkin' I'll be ready to listen."

Craig stared at the back of the couch, knowing that he could never explain to Bobby what he was feeling. How could he explain something that he didn't understand himself? He lay there, staring into the dark, thinking that there was no way he was going to sleep that night, not with all the different emotions that seemed to be struggling inside him to get out.

He felt Bobby's breathing even out again after a long while. He felt his own eyes close on him while he was still fuming over Bobby making him lay next to him, and not letting him have his sketch pad. He was letting the anger build, but at the same time, as he was drifting off into a peaceful sleep, he felt his arms reach for Bobby and hold onto him while he rested his head on his arm. He barely felt Bobby's arm hold him a little more securely, and it was then that the muscles in his arms and legs seemed to finally relax for the first time since they'd gotten home. He let go of Bobby long enough to pull the afghan up closer to him and that would be all that he remembered until morning.


	56. Chapter 56

Thanks all for reading, and for letting me know what you think, I like to know your thoughts! :)

Still don't own, and still make no money....

* * *

**Chapter 56: A Crack in the Dam**

"Damn Angel, you don't think he's gonna eat all of that, do you?" Jack's voice rang out, loud, filling the entire house. Craig cracked his eyes open and found himself looking towards the dining room. He was alone on the couch, but the television was on, and there was sound of movement echoing from the kitchen. The air was filled the tempting smells of bacon and eggs, and he could hear laughing. Sleep hadn't yet released its hold on him, and he watched mother walking from the kitchen with a platter in her hands. She turned and looked at him, a playful smile on her face as she set the platter on the table. "Wake up sleepy head, it's Christmas Eve, and we have some shopping to finish up before tomorrow." She turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Craig kept his gaze on the dining room, waiting to see if she came back, he wanted her to come back. His chest tightened, and his throat seemed to close up on him while tears pooled in his eyes. His brain told him he'd just woke from the worst nightmare he'd ever had, that his mother was right there and everything was going to be okay. He would get up and eat breakfast, and then he would go with his mother to pick up some last minutes Christmas things. She was good at waiting until the last minute at Christmas, waiting to find the best deals on gifts. She would spend weeks looking for just what she wanted to buy, and then wait until the very last possible moment to go out and actually buy it.

If his mother walked back into the dining room, he'd know that it had all been a bad dream, the worst dream possible. Her death could disappear from his memory, and Stanley Miller could disappear. The feeling of a layer of grunge coating him after Victor Sweet's hands had touched him could go away, and all of the feelings stirring around in his head, the anger and the fear, and the confusion, could all go away. The memories he'd buried from the past few days would never have to come back. His brothers wouldn't be there, and he could have his mother all to himself, like it had been for so long. His mother would keep him safe, and protect him. He could let go of that haunting feeling that his father was waiting just on the other side of some invisible door, ready to grab at him, and pull him inside an invisible room, becoming invisible himself; becoming nothing, like he used to be, like he'd felt not so long ago.

His mother just had to walk from the kitchen again, and smile at him, that was all it would take for everything to be okay again. Was that so much to ask? Why did he have to lose everything important to him? Why couldn't he hold onto the one good thing that had ever happened to him? Evelyn Mercer had saved him from his own mind when he was six years old. She'd talked him back from some dark place, and he didn't want to go back to that dark place again, but he could feel himself falling into it, and he wanted her to save him again.

Jack and Angel walked into the dining room carrying plates of food. Bobby followed them with a jug of milk in his hands. Bobby looked over at him and smiled when he seen that he was awake. Craig felt as if he'd been kicked hard in the gut. His whole world seemed to shatter. He had held onto that hope that everything that had happened in the past month had been nothing but one long nightmare, but the sight of his brothers only tore away that one last wish that he could forget everything. He couldn't just forget it now. It had happened, and it had been real, and all the fears that he'd been battling were real. If they had just stayed in the kitchen, and given their mother a chance to come back he could have held onto his hope for just a little while longer, he could have felt good for just a few more moments. She had been so clear, and looked so real that he could have slipped into that hope completely. He told himself he could close his eyes and bring her back, escape into that reality that he'd been hoping so hard for, even if it wasn't the truth, it would at least be comforting.

"Good morning 'Sleeping Beauty', you ready to get your ass up yet?" Bobby called out, sitting the milk down before walking into the living room.

Craig forced himself to sit up slowly; the effort pulled at his chest and caused him to cough. As soon as he was upright his head started to pound hard and the room took a sharp tilt to his left. He let himself fall over to the back of the couch for some support. His chest started to ache under the bandage, and his legs and arms felt like noodles hanging off the rest of his body, the muscles not wanting to respond to him. He felt the all too familiar pains in areas where he shouldn't hurt, and he knew the meaning of it, but he pushed that to the back of his mind. He sniffed at his nose, which seemed to stop up as soon as he was upright.

Bobby walked in and pulled the coffee table away from the couch. He sat on the edge of the couch, right next to the boy. "You need to get up and take your pills. You'll feel better after you're awake for a while." He reached out to feel the boy's forehead.

Craig flinched away from the hand, reaching up and smacking it away without thinking about what he was doing. His one last hope of having his mother there to take care of him had been shattered, and he was feeling more frustrated and hurt. He didn't want to be touched; he didn't want to be around his brothers, none of them. He wanted to be alone, to have the chance to escape into some kind of imagined world where Evelyn Mercer was there, where he could feel her touch and hear her voice, he just wanted to be her little boy again, just for a little while. He knew if he could be alone, away from everyone else, he could bring her back, he knew he could.

Bobby grabbed hold of both of his wrists. The hold wasn't hard, but Craig felt an instant weakness hit his stomach, that feeling of not having control overwhelmed him, and he hated it. He didn't try to pull away from Bobby as the man released one wrist so that he could feel his forehead, and then both of his cheeks. Bobby's hand felt cool again his face.

"Your fever is up." Bobby spoke quietly. He stared at the boy for a long moment. "Okay, I'm going to go get your shit, and you'll eat in here. If you can't eat much, that's fine, but I expect you to at least try, okay?" He didn't sound angry about Craig smacking his hand away. He was talking to him as if everything was okay.

Craig looked at his brother's face, and he tried to feel something besides the anger that seemed to well up. He really didn't want to be mad at Bobby. Bobby was taking care of him as best as he could, but he wanted his mother, he wanted to feel her hand on his forehead. He wanted to be able to curl up with his head on her lap and feel her run her fingers through his hair, easing the head ache, and making him feel safe.

Bobby stood and retreated to the dining room. Craig turned and looked at the Christmas tree at the other end of the couch. The lights weren't on, and he wished for some reason that they were. He stared at the ornaments, trying to remember the meaning of some of them, but his mind seemed to be unable to recall, and that did nothing more than make him feel more frustrated. He coughed some more, pulling his gaze from the tree, not wanting to look at it, not wanting to be reminded that he felt so lost. He didn't understand it, and he wanted it to stop. He found his gaze drifting across to the fireplace, and from there up to the framed drawings that he had given to his brothers. He stared at the picture of his brothers. The snapshot his mind had taken of them skating across the ice towards him. It brought back the memory of Bobby yelling at him out on the ice, getting upset with him because he couldn't skate, because he couldn't pass the puck right.

Bobby returned a minute later with his pills and the thick syrup that left a sickening sweet taste in his mouth. He made a face, but didn't argue when Bobby gave him the various medications. He didn't feel like making the effort.

Next Bobby brought him a plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, and a biscuit with some gravy dribbled over it. He also brought in a glass of milk. "You eat as much of it as you can." The man set it all on the coffee table and then went back to the dining room.

Craig was surprised that Bobby had left him to eat alone. He was thankful for the chance to be alone, and eat at his own pace, and he didn't want Bobby hovering over him, but he'd expected his brother sit with him, and for some reason it bothered him that he didn't. He'd wanted Bobby to leave him be, and he was, but it nagged at him for some reason. He stared at Bobby's back as the man sat at the table with Jack and Angel. The three of them were eating together, like a family, and he was on the couch, alone. He would have been irritated if Bobby had sat there to watch him eat, he knew he would have, but the fact that his brother hadn't followed the normal behavior that he'd come to expect from him was bothering him just as much. He slowly turned and let his feet down to the floor so he could eat. He took a long drink of his milk, hoping to clear the taste of the apple juice and cough syrup from his mouth. He picked up the bacon and nibbled on the end of it.

The smells of the food had been inviting just a few minutes before, but now he didn't feel like eating. He would have preferred to lie back down on the couch and fall into a safe world where his mother was there to watch over him. He didn't understand why his yearning for her was so strong at that moment. He had missed her, he had missed being her son, but it had gotten less intense at one point, now it seemed to be overwhelming him, and he didn't understand why. He hadn't been able to even picture her in his head for a while, but then she'd just appeared there, as real and life like as if she had never been taken away. He felt as if she'd died a second time, and it felt so intense that it was swallowing him up.

He managed to eat half the bacon, and he even took a couple bites of the biscuit with gravy. He didn't touch the egg; he just couldn't bring himself to eat any of it. He did drink all of his milk; it seemed to feel good on his stomach.

He pulled his feet back up onto couch and turned so that he was sitting with his back against the arm rest. He pulled his knees up rested his head against the couch back. He reached up with his finger and started tracing the stitching in the red upholstery. He let his eyes slip close and he concentrated on the feel of the material under his finger. It felt good not to think about anything else, even if it was just for a little while.

Bobby came back in to get the plate and glass nearly ten minutes later. Craig opened his eyes and looked up when he heard his brother talking. "I'll bring you Jack's special bottle. I know you gotta take a piss, and you aren't going up the stairs again for a few days." He announced.

Bobby was true to his word. He brought back the bottle the hospital had sent home with Jack to pee in. Craig didn't want to use it, but Bobby stood over him, and he didn't have a choice. He did have to pee. He was thankful that Bobby at least turned away while he did what he needed to.

Bobby took the bottle from him when he was finished and went upstairs. Jack came into the living room and sat on the other end of the couch. He asked Craig how he was feeling, but the boy just shrugged his shoulders, not looking up from where he'd fixed his eyes on the red weave of the back of the couch. He didn't want to talk to Jack. He didn't want to talk to anyone. If he thought he could get away with it, he would have gone up to his room and closed the door on the rest of his family, on the rest of the world, and he would have let his mind drift back to a time when Evelyn Mercer was there and making all of the bad feelings go away.

Jack tried to ask him if he wanted to watch a movie, but the boy just ignored that question, though he could easily have just shook his head to let his brother know he had heard him. No, he didn't want to watch television at all, in fact he wished they would just turn it off and let him have some quiet. He was stuck on the couch, and he didn't want to be there.

Bobby returned from upstairs carrying a basin of water and a folded towel. He set it on the coffee table and looked at Craig. "You need to get yourself washed up. I'll get you some clean clothes, you get started." He instructed before turning and walking out of the room. Craig looked at the water and could see a bar of soap and wash rag floating around in it. He didn't want to take his clothes off and he didn't want to wash in front of his brothers out of a basin. He didn't move from his position on the couch, though Bobby was expecting him to start before he returned.

Jack looked at him and seemed to sense that something was wrong. "You need some help?" He offered, leaning towards the boy.

Craig turned to his head to stare at the back of the couch again, ignoring Jack. He wanted to block out everything around him. Maybe his brothers would leave him alone if he ignored them. Maybe they would give him some time. He could tell them he didn't feel comfortable washing in the living room, being watched while he did it. If his mom had been there he wouldn't have had to say the words, she would have picked up on it, and known what he was feeling. He missed her more with each passing second.

"Craig, you have to wash up, you can't stay in the same clothes for days at a time. I'll help you if need help." Jack spoke calmly.

Bobby walked back into the room about the same time Jack was talking. The man dropped the clean change of clothes on the chair in front of the record player and crossed his arms in front of his chest for a long moment, as if he were waiting for Craig to answer Jack, or start pulling his shirt off. Craig didn't look up at Bobby, and he still didn't answer Jack. He kept his mind closed to both brothers at that point.

Bobby sucked in a deep breath as he walked around the coffee table and reached down to start unbuttoning the boy's shirt. "I'll help you if you need some help." His voice was flat. It was easy to see he wasn't happy with his youngest brother at that point.

Craig pushed Bobby's hands away. "No." He muttered.

Bobby smacked the hands back. "Don't do that again." He spoke with warning in his voice. "I'm not playing with you, and you aren't going to pull an attitude with me, or any of your brothers. You got that?"

Craig felt the frustration building up, and he hardly realized it when his right leg kicked out at Bobby. Bobby managed to move back in time, but Craig's leg hit the basin of water, knocking it onto the floor. Craig felt his heart beat pick up once he realized what he'd done.

Bobby stepped back and looked at him through hard eyes. "I'm going to get this cleaned up, and I'm going to get more water." The man's teeth were set as he spoke, and his voice rose slightly with each word. "By the time I've got this mess taken care of I expect you to be out of those clothes and ready to wash yourself." He grabbed the towel he'd brought down for Craig to dry off with, and dropped it on the floor to start sopping up the water, crouching next to it.

Jack moved to help his brother, but Bobby waved him off. "You ain't doin' shit, you ain't healed up either." He spoke a little louder than he needed to.

Jack sat back in his seat and looked over at Craig. "I suggest you start getting your clothes off, or he's gonna be even more pissed." He warned.

Craig watched as Bobby worked. He felt bad about the mess, he really did, but another part of him was fuming over Bobby yelling at him. He hadn't meant to kick the basin. He hadn't even meant to kick at Bobby. He just wanted to be left alone, and allowed to think for a while. His mother would have understood. She would have done something to make him feel better inside, but she wasn't there.

Bobby turned to look towards the kitchen. "Angel!" He yelled, "Bring me some towels!"

Angel yelled something back from the kitchen that Craig couldn't quite understand, but he came in a minute later with a couple of towels. "What the hell happened?" He laughed at the sight, until he seen the look on Bobby's face.

"I want that bed in there made up and ready for him. As soon as he's washed and changed his clothes his ass is going in that bed and he's staying there for the rest of the fucking day. He's lying down and he's not getting up for shit." Bobby pointed to small tub that had held the water. "Take that thing in the kitchen and fill it with warm water? Get that soap and that wash rag too? He can't use that now. I'll need a new wash rag."

Angel drew in a deep breath and let out a long sigh. "Okay." He turned bent down to snatch the items off the floor and then walked out of the room back to the kitchen.

Bobby looked at Craig. "You'd better get your clothes off now, or you won't like it when I take over the job." He warned.

Craig stared at Bobby, his feelings turning hard. He didn't care what Bobby did, he didn't want to wash up out of a basin in the middle of the living room. He didn't want his brothers watching him while he cleaned himself. "Why can't I go take fucking a shower?" He asked the question quietly, but the tone of his voice sounded belligerent, he heard it as he spoke, but he couldn't stop himself.

Bobby looked at him as if he were surprised by the words. "Little boy, let me remind you right now of somethings. You don't talk to us like that. You don't use that tone of voice and I don't like hearing you use that word. Ma never let you talk like that, and I damn sure ain't gonna let you start, so straighten your ass up, or I'm gonna warm it up. Don't make me do that. I don't want to do that. You're feeling like shit, and we want to help, but I will not put up with this, not from you, not now."

Craig felt his heart twist up at the mention of their mother. "Mom's not here, so who cares how I talk." He muttered the words, though he didn't really mean them. He didn't know why he felt the need to keep at Bobby like that. He felt like it, and it felt good to push at him for some reason. He told himself Bobby had no right to mention their mother. She wasn't there to fix things for him, and it made him feel more angry inside.

Bobby was on his feet and coming around the table too quick for Craig to react. The teen didn't expect the hard smack to the side of his mouth, "Don't you ever say shit like that!" Bobby's voice came out in a yell.

Craig held onto his mouth, and the tears started falling instantly, though he fought down the sobbing that was building up inside of him. He could feel the pressure building up, and he was holding it in with all the willpower he had, but it felt like he was damming up a river with twigs and it wasn't going to hold. The tears trickling down his cheeks were only increasing the pressure on the walls that he was throwing up to hold it all in.

Jack stood and walked out of the room without saying a word, he was heading towards the kitchen. Craig wasn't able to look at his face as he moved away, but he was sure he was just as pissed as Bobby looked, and that tugged at his emotions even more.

Bobby didn't move away after smacking him, he reached out and smacked Craig's hand away from the bright red hand pint that was forming at the right side of his mouth. "Don't you ever talk about Ma like that." He leaned over pressing a hand into the back of the couch on either side of the boy for support, which put his face directly in front of the boy. "You want to tell me what the fuck your problem is? Cause I'll listen. I'll let you yell and scream at me all you want, but you are not going to talk like me because Ma wouldn't want you to talk like me. I do it because I've done it for so long that I don't know any other way to talk. You know better, and you are not going to start using words like that now. The next time you mention Ma, you'd better do it with a little respect or I'll bust your mouth again. Do you understand me?" Bobby's voice was loud, but he didn't yell, and his face was turning bright red by the time he was finished with his ranting.

Craig tried to move his head, to turn away from his brother, but Bobby's left hand came away from the couch and grabbed hold of his chin, turning him back to face the man. "I think we need to go back to some rules around here. When any of us speak to you, you answer. Now did you understand every single word that I just said to you?" His voice was firm, but a little lower in volume.

"Yes." Craig muttered.

"Good." Bobby stood back from the couch. "Now get your shirt off." He crossed his arms in front of him and watched the boy reach up to unbutton his shirt.

Angel walked in with a fresh tub of water, wash rag and soap. He said something about bringing in a clean towel.

Bobby grabbed Craig's arm and pulled him to his feet as soon as his shirt was off. He pulled the boy's sweat pants down. "Step out of them." He told him.

Craig did what Bobby told him, and ten minutes later he had washed, dried and put on clean clothes. Bobby grabbed his arm and pulled him into the dining room. "You are going to stay in this bed." Bobby lifted him into the bed, laid him back, and pulled the blankets up over him. "If you move, you will regret it." He turned and walked back to the living room without giving Craig a chance to say anything. Not that he would have.

Craig rolled onto his left side, putting his back to the rest of the house. He pulled the pillow down next to him and hugged at it. He felt his body starting to shiver, and suddenly it seemed as if he were more alone than he'd ever felt. Only a short time before he had wanted his brothers to leave him alone, to let him have some time to himself; but now he wanted them in the room with him, he wanted Bobby in the room with him. He wanted to tell him he was sorry. He wanted to be able to explain the turmoil that was eating away at him, but he had no words to describe it. He let some tears fall, and he listened to Angel and Jack talking quietly in the kitchen for a while before they went to the living room. The whole house seemed to fall silent after a while, and before he knew it he was asleep, struggling with visions of his mother, and his brothers, and the turmoil that was building up inside of him.


	57. Chapter 57

Okay, I might be over in the number of chapters, but the word count isn't as high as the first story, so I'm not gonna worry about it yet :)

Thanks as always for reading, and let me know what you think, I do pay attention!

Legal stuff still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 57: Bobby's Ribs**

Bobby put Craig into the bed and warned him not to get up before going to the living room to pick up the boy's dirty clothes, the towel, and the basin of water which held the wash rag and soap. He carried them upstairs, despite the strain the activity was applying to his aching ribs. Each stair he cleared seemed to stab into his chest, cutting off his air.

He'd slapped the shit out of the kid. Damn it. He hadn't wanted to do that. He hadn't meant to do that. He had wanted to jerk the kid to his feet and wail on his ass, and it had taken all the control he had not to, but he hadn't wanted to slap him either. Shit, why had the kid mouthed off like that? It wouldn't have bothered him so much if he hadn't made the remark about his mother. He could have handled the kid calling him all sorts of names. He could have dealt with Craig cursing at him, hell, he didn't like it, and would have made sure he knew that, but he wouldn't have snapped like that. It wasn't just what Craig had said, but the look in his eyes when he said it, and the way his voice sounded. What he said was the truth, their mother was dead. But he sounded so fucking hateful, and as if he didn't care at that moment that she wasn't there. Hearing and seeing the coldness in the kid when he knew he wasn't like that, not really, had been too much for him.

He carried the basin to the restroom, dropped the soap and the wash rag into the sink, and let the dirty clothes drop onto the counter of the sink; he turned with the basin of dirty water, and dumped it down the toilet. The motions sent pains through his chest, stabbing hard into his breath. He returned to the sink, bracing hismelf against it with one hand and opened up the medicine cabinet with the other. His prescription was sitting on the middle shelf; he'd been avoiding taking it for fear of it knocking him out cold. He wanted to be alert so that he could take care of Craig, and handle the shit the kid was bringing down on them all right then. He didn't blame the boy, far from it, but he wanted to be able to deal with him. The pain pills were strong, and when he'd taken one the night before, just half of what he was supposed to take, it had made it difficult for him to stay awake with the boy long enough to get him settled down. Right now, at t his moment, he could feel his ribs stabbing into him, and each breath was sending the sharp pains deep into him, nearly taking him down. He'd been okay until he'd lost it with Craig. He'd been ignoring the injured ribs all morning, and once he'd slapped the kid he'd had to hold himself up on the back of the couch, holding in the pain that had shot through him while he tried to talk to the kid. That had raised the level of his voice, and he knew at the time that he sounded as if he were gonna lose control again, but he'd been doing all he could to hold in the pain, and to hold his patience.

He'd held held his patience when Craig smacked his hand away first thing that morning. He'd held it in when the boy hadn't spoken to him, acting as if he wasn't hearing him when he could see the comprehension on his face. He'd felt his body tense up on him though, holding it in had been putting a strain on him, but he knew that boy had already been through hell, and he didn't want to lose control and yell at him, or demand shit from him. It was too soon to demand shit from him, but he wanted his little brother back, or at least something close how he'd been before Adam Macks got his hands on him. He wanted the same kid that had walked out of the house a few days earlier, the one that didn't want to go to Sofi's, the one that was starting act like a normal kid for the first time in weeks.

His hand was shaking as he snatched up the bottle of pain killers. He struggled with the child proof cap that he was sure his nieces could both have popped open with no hesitation, and then dumped two of the pills into his hand. He recapped the bottle and put it away before popping the pills into his mouth. He turned on the water in the sink and used his hand to cup the water so he could get the pills down. He figured it was safe to take them now. Craig's pills would keep him groggy, and he was hoping he would fall asleep and wake up feeling a little less hostile towards them all. He could let his own medication kick in, grab a nap and hopefully he'd wake up a damn less irritable with Craig. It would all work out perfect.

"You okay?" Angel spoke from the doorway behind Bobby.

Bobby turned and looked at Angel. "I'm fine." His voice sounded strained when he spoke, and he hadn't realized it, but his entire body was trembling. The pain was so fucking intense, and he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to stand up from where he was leaning on the sink.

"Don't lie to me man, I could see your blood pressure rising down there when you were having a meltdown." Angel's voice remained quiet.

"I didn't have no fucking meltdown." Bobby spoke with a lot of breath to his voice.

"Bullshit." Angel's response was short and sweet.

"Yeah, okay, I might have lost it for a minute. But I'm fine. How was Craig? Did you check on him?" Bobby turned his head and looked at Angel.

"He's asleep." Angel stepped into the room, walking over to the toilet. He pushed the seat down with a loud bang and stepped over to Bobby. "Sit your ass down, man, you look like shit." He grabbed Bobby's arm and pulled him back to the toilet, dropping him down on it before sitting on the edge of the bath tub directly in front of him. "You wanna tell me what the fuck happened? Jackie-Poo won't tell me shit."

Bobby looked at Angel, his head was starting to pound, and it seemed concentrated behind his eyes, all the way down the back of his neck where it spread out into his ribs. He drew in a deep breath and told Angel what happened, how Craig had been acting, how he had kicked at his brother, and ended up dumping the basin of water. He told him the words that had cut through Bobby like a knife, and how he had slapped the shit out of the kid, not being able to hold it in any longer.

"Man, you shouldn't have held it in and let it build up like that." Angel shook his head. "You needed to put his ass in check long before you busted his mouth."

"Yeah, I held it in. I know I fucked up, okay, I lost it with him and it's the last thing he needs right now." Bobby attempted to draw in a deep breath, but the pain in his chest intensified.

"You fucked up big time. You held it in, and didn't correct his shitty attitude from the start. You lost it because he pushed you, on purpose, and you know it." Angel let a half smile pull at him. "You got soft on us, and it turned around and bit you in the fucking ass."

Bobby felt the scowl cross his face, but he wasn't sure if it was from the pressure in his ribs or the words Angel had spoken. "He didn't push me on purpose. He's screwed up right now. He didn't mean it, and I should have handled it different. I should've had better control." He nearly yelled at his brother. "It's not his fault."

"Bullshit." Angel leaned closer to Bobby, "You ain't been letting him get away with pulling any kind of shit on you big brother, no matter what the hell he's been through. You've been hard on him from the start, you expected him to act a certain way, and listen to what the fuck you told him, and all of a sudden you didn't make him listen for shit. Don't tell me he wasn't pushing you. He was testing you, and he was waiting for you to fuckin wail his ass for his attitude." Angel spoke with calmness to his voice. "You kept holdin' it in and he kept pushin'."

"Bullshit." Bobby shook his head, not really understanding the meaning of Angel's words.

"He expects you to put up the fucking boundaries or he won't know what to do, so stop kicking yourself in the ass. You lost control, it happens, hell I would have knocked the shit out of him if I'd heard him talk like that about Mom." Angel let his voice take on a more firm tone. "Now start acting like his big brother and not some fucking nanny who's gonna feed him and give him his medicine on time. He's confused, and he's scared, and for some fucking reason you give him something stable, and it helps, so if you want to get his head straight, you gotta start acting like you always do, and not like some nurse maid who thinks he's gonna break if you treat him normal."

Bobby could feel the words sinking into his aching head. "I ain't been treating him the same." He shook his head. "Hell, Angel, I can't." His voice sounded weak, even to him. "That son of a bitch hurt him. He messed him up more than he already was. He was starting to get past most of the shit that had happened to him with Sweet, and then that fucker had to put his filthy hands on him. I don't know what the fuck to do. I don't know how to talk to him. I can see him closing up inside, and I don't know what the fuck to do to stop it."

"Damn Bobby, he ain't been home for a full twenty four hours. The last time it took a hell of a lot longer for him to get to a point when he would let you help. Until he's ready, all you can do is treat him like you normally would. Don't let him get away with the shit, and keep him close. You know he's gonna hold it in until he's ready, you know that. When he's ready, it's gonna be a fucking storm, but you gotta keep it real until then. If you don't, he ain't gonna trust you enough and he'll never be ready." Angel sighed and shook his head. "And you look like shit yourself. You need to say fuck it for a while, and lay down."

Bobby nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm gonna get his dirty clothes put up, and then I'm heading to Ma's bed." He muttered.

"I've got his clothes." Angel stood and walked to the sink to snatch up the clothes. "Why don't you go get in the bed?"

Bobby moved to stand, but his legs went weak on him. "Shit." He muttered as he dropped back down onto the toilet.

Angel forgot the clothes and let them fall back into their place on the sink. "You don't look so good. Your face just turned all fucking pasty." He moved back to his brother's side and felt his forehead.

Bobby pulled back from the man, looking up at him, feeling irritated. "Don't be fucking feeling my forehead; I'm not a little kid who needs you checking me for a fever." He pulled a face on his brother, almost daring him to reach out again.

Angel shook his head. "You're goin to the hospital." He reached to grab hold of Bobby's arm to help him stand.

"I ain't goin' to the hospital." Bobby pushed Angel's hand away. "I'm fine. I'm just gonna go lay down for a while."

Angel stood back, staring the man down for a long moment before speaking quietly. "Fine, I'll call for the fucking ambulance, and they can come up here and yank your ass off the fucking toilet themselves." He threatened. "Cause I'm not gonna carry your ass to the fuckin' bed."

"You ain't calling no fucking ambulance." Bobby spoke loud, he moved to stand again, but the pain shot into him, taking the strength from his legs. His knees went weak, and he dropped back onto the toilet seat.

"Get your ass off the toilet, get downstairs, and get your fucking coat on." Jack spoke from the doorway where he was leaning against the frame, his arms crossed at his chest. "You need to go to the hospital, or I'll call for the ambulance myself."

Bobby looked over at his younger brother. "What the hell are you doin' upstairs you little fairy? You ain't supposed to be climbing the steps."

"Get your ass down here and get your coat on. You ain't gonna do anyone any good if you pass out on us." Jack spoke quietly. "You need to get checked out. If it were me or Craig, you'd drag our asses to the hospital. So move it."

Bobby felt his temper burning. "Jack, don't fucking mess with me, I ain't in the mood. I ain't going to no fucking hospital." His voice rose slightly. "You get your ass down those stairs and don't come back up."

"You ain't my mommy Bobby, Craig get's that part of you all to himself." Jack let a small smile form. "You don't want Angel to pick your ass up and carry you, now do you?"

Bobby looked up at Angel, shit they were ganging up on him. He could see the twinkle in Angel's eyes; his little brother wanted him to keep fighting him. He attempted to suck in another deep breath, and the stabbing hit him harder than before. "Okay." He cringed and held his left arm around his ribs. "Let's go." He let Angel grab his arm and help him stand. Hell, he hadn't had to let his little brother help him walk for a few years, but back then it was usually after a bar room brawl, and they usually were holding each other up.

He allowed Angel to support most of his weight as they made their way down the stairs, Jack close behind them. He wanted to go in and check on Craig, just once before they left, but Angel grabbed his coat off of the rack and shoved it at him. "Put that on and shut the hell up. Cracker Jack will take good care of Craig while we're gone." He spoke with little patience.

"Hey, watch it, I'm goin' ain't I?"Bobby cried out. He turned his head to look at Jack. "If we ain't back by noon, you gotta make sure he gets all his pills, and that cough syrup." He had to say the words quickly; Angel was pulling him towards the door.

Jack nodded his head. "It's under control." He spoke as if he didn't want to hear it.

"And don't let him get out of that bed. He's still pretty weak, and you ain't strong enough to help him." Bobby said while Angel was dragging him through the door onto the front porch. "Don't let him up Jack, I mean it."

Jack smiled at him and waved while he closed the door, shutting out anything else that he might have wanted to say before Angel dragged his aching body down the front steps, through the snow in the yard, to the car. Hell, maybe he would luck out and get that cute littel nurse, Sarah, that would make it all worth a trip to the hospital.....


	58. Chapter 58

Okay, another short one, but I'm working long hours this week and it's getting hard to get these up. As always, thanks for reading :)

Legal stuff still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 58: Phone Call**

Jack closed the door tight after Angel had managed to drag Bobby through it. He was surprised that it hadn't taken too much effort to get the man to agree to the hospital visit. He had been ready to call Jerry and bring him in for back up if needed. Bobby had to be hurting pretty damn bad for him to relent to his younger brothers' wishes that he get himself looked at. He hadn't been doing what the doctor had told him. Hell, he'd chased down Macks when he'd tried to run with Craig to that pond. Of course he only knew what had happened because Angel had told him all about it. Bobby hadn't talked that much about it with him at all.

Angel's description of how Bobby had dove across the dock, slid on the icy boards under him to the end, and managed to grab hold of Craig still sent chills down his spine when he thought about it. Bobby had barely reached their brother, but he'd done it despite the busted ribs he'd managed to give himself when he'd wrecked their mother's car trying to get to both him and Craig.

The kid didn't realized what all of his brothers had gone through to get him back home, where he was safe. He walked to the window to be sure that the car was driving away before he turned and looked at Craig asleep in the hospital bed in the next room. Bobby had said that they weren't going to tell the kid shit unless he remembered and started asking questions. But he didn't think that was what Craig needed. He didn't need the secrets, and he didn't need to be wondering about what the hell had happened. He might have said he didn't remember, but Jack had a funny feeling that somewhere in the back of his mind he was holding it all in, and he would explode if he didn't get it out. He'd done it before. After he was released from the hospital when Sweet had messed him, he'd held everything in and hid it all from his family until he'd lost his self control and took off in a blind emotional storm.

He wasn't going to do that this time, Jack knew what he was feeling and damn it he was home this time to get the kid to face it himself. He was fighting down the emotional shit that was inside, and it was coming out in little tantrums, like smacking at Bobby's hands, and kicking at the man. He didn't quite get why it seemed so focused on Bobby, except for the reason Angel had come up with, Bobby wasn't treating him like he usually did. He wasn't giving him some boundaries to count on so that he knew he'd be safe to let it all out.

Bobby had said not to let him get out of the bed, he didn't say anything about sitting in there with him and telling him how it was gonna be from now on. No more silent treatment when he was feeling shitty. No more back talk and there wasn't going to be any more hitting or kicking. If he needed to talk, he had family who would listen, but they weren't going to put up with the crap he was dishing out, and it was time he understood that.

It was time he heard what the hell his brothers had done for him, and he was going to hear it, not just sit and pretend to listen. He was going to hear about his brothers confronting the punks in the warehouse, and Jessup Winston. He was going to hear how they had managed to track him down, despite the fact that Adam Macks had dragged his ass hundreds of miles, across the state line, into territory that was unknown to them, and how they had managed to find him and get to him in less than twelve hours after he'd been grabbed from Maria's apartment. He wouldn't mention Macks if he could avoid it, but he was going to make sure Craig knew what the hell his family went through to get to him.

Jack drew in a deep breath and walked through the living room, to the dining room. He stepped carefully over to the bed and eased himself down on the edge of it. His hand rested on the boy's arm and he gave him a slight shake to try to draw him out of the sleep he'd fallen into. Craig moaned and rolled onto his back, but he didn't wake up. Jack drew in a deep breath and moved his hand to Craig's stomach, giving him another shake. "Craig, wake up, it's time you and me had talk." He spoke quietly, and didn't understand why. He was trying to wake the kid, so why not use a louder voice?

Because he didn't want to scare him out of his sleep. He didn't want him to think he was angry with him. He wasn't angry. He Craig to wake up feeling safe not scared. "Craig, come on, I want to talk to you." He did raise his voice a little that time, but kept his tone pleasant. "It's important, and I want to talk while no one else is home." He gave the boy another small shake.

Craig's eyes slipped open a crack. "What time is it?" He asked.

"It's almost nine thirty." Jack answered.

Craig drew in a deep breath, "At night?" He asked, sounding a little confused.

"No it's morning." Jack shook his head. "Come on, I need to talk to you." He reached down and slid both hands under Craig's arms, pulling him up to sit.

Craig reached up and rubbed at his eyes. "Am I late for school?" He asked.

"No, you don't have school today." Jack was surprised that the boy was having such a hard time coming back to the real world. It had to be the medication he was on.

"Can't I sleep a little longer? I don't feel good." Craig let his eyes close on him, but he didn't lie back in the bed.

Jack sighed and stared at the kid for a long moment. This was their Craig. The fourteen year old kid that was still ignorant to the real world. This was the little brother who was still a kid, and hadn't been through hell. He couldn't take that away from him, even if it was a sleep induced state of mind for the kid, not yet. Maybe it was good for him to have that short time of being oblivious to how he was really feeling. He nodded his head, more to agree with himself rather than to be giving the boy an answer. "Sure, you lay back down there. We can talk later." His heart felt torn, regretting that he was giving up the chance to have that talk with him; he knew the kid needed it, but he couldn't bring himself to shatter the protective sleep he was in at the moment. He knew what it was like to find a safe place in your mind, like a solid floor to stand on for a short time, and then have someone jerk it out from under you.

He watched the teen drop back down to the bed, roll over onto his side and grab the pillow next to him, hugging onto it as if it were a life preserver. Once Bobby got back home, there wouldn't be another chance. Bobby would throw a fucking fit if he heard Jack trying to have that particular talk with the kid.

In that moment of quiet thought, Jack thought that maybe it was best that he'd backed out of the talk, at least for now. Maybe it wasn't the time, maybe he needed to let it go just for now, and find another time to pull Craig to the side and talk. Maybe Bobby was right, maybe the kid needed to remember some of the shit on his own.

The phone rang out with no warning. It sounded twice as loud as usual against the quiet of the house. Jack hit his feet and walked quickly to the kitchen to find the cordless. It was lying on the counter, and on its third ring by the time he located it and picked it up. "Hello." He spoke casually, though the quick pace he'd used to get to the device had been more exertion than he should have put on his self and he wanted to sit for a minute. He stepped over to the first chair he came to and dropped into it, expecting to hear Angel's voice telling him how much of a pain Bobby was being, but there was no response. "Hello?" He repeated, but the only response was the sound of breathing on the other end of the line. He looked at the caller ID on the display, but it just stated the ID was unavailable. He shrugged his shoulders and disconnected, setting the phone on the table and letting himself sit back in the chair to relax a couple of minutes before headed back to the living room.

He would let the kid sleep a little while, and then maybe he'd try to wake him again. Maybe it was better if he gave himself a little time to figure out just what he was going to say to him before he actually had him in front of him. He knew what he wanted to say, but he could practice his little speech in his head for a while, get it all laid out and be ready, rather than following Bobby's practice of just winging it.

After a couple of minutes Jack moved to stand, but the phone rang again. He picked it up, sure that this time it was going to be Angel with his call to update him on Bobby, but again, he was met with silence once he'd said the traditional, "Hello." He hesitated for a moment before speaking again, "Look, whoever this is, this isn't funny. You got something to say, just say it." He was a little irritated by the phone game some teenager was probably playing with a random number they'd picked out of their heads. Hell, he'd done it when he was twelve or thirteen, a few times. Now he knew how much of an aggravation it had been for his victims.

There was still no response on the other end of the line. He hung up the phone and pulled himself up to his feet. He picked the phone up and carried it with him to the living room. Once he was stretched out on the couch he picked up the remote for the T.V. and turned the volume up so that he could hear it. He flipped through the stations until he found an old black and white movie and settled on that, at least for the moment. He felt his body start to relax and sat back in his seat.

The phone rang out again, and he looked at the display before he answered it this time. 'Unavailable' flashed back at him. He frowned and answered, "Yeah," He felt the strain in his voice, but couldn't hold in his frustration. He was waiting for a call from Angel, though he knew it was too soon for that call, really, he didn't want to be playing these games with a bunch of kids who had nothing better to do on Christmas Eve.

"I'll get him back." The voice on the other end of the phone sounded hoarse, and hard, and cruel, though it was barely a whisper.

Jack froze solid inside. "Who the hell is this?" He asked the question quietly.

"I'll get him back, and when I do, you won't find him a second time." The phone went dead on the other end.

"Shit." Jack held the phone back and looked at it. His first instinct was to call Bobby, well, actually Angel who had the phone and was with Bobby at that time; but he knew if he did Bobby would be back at the house before he got himself checked out at the hospital. He quickly dialed Jerry's number and waited for his brother to answer.


	59. Chapter 59

Legal stuff still counts...

Thanks all for the reviews, and keep them coming :)

* * *

**Chapter 59: Dead or Alive?**

Jeremiah Mercer sat at the table in his wife's parents' kitchen, feasting on a late breakfast of every food imaginable. They were there for their annual Christmas Eve breakfast. After the food they would all gather around the Christmas tree to open presents and share stories of how cute Camille and her sisters and brother were on Christmas mornings when they were little. It had become a tradition with Camille's family, celebrating Christmas on Christmas Eve; it seemed much easier for the rest of the family to keep Christmas free for other get-togethers with the families of husbands or wives. It had worked out great for Jeremiah. He had always loved spending Christmas with his mother, and she had always looked forward to the traditions that she held so dear being followed on that holiday. Camille's family's tradition helped to keep his own family gathering free of conflict, though his mother would have understood if they'd had to split their holiday between in-laws.

Jeremiah had turned his cell phone down to vibrate when they'd arrived, not wanting his brothers, who seemed to forget too easily that he had his in-laws to consider around the holidays to start calling him just to talk about the past few days. They needed to talk some things through, he knew that, but not today, this day was for his wife and daughters. It didn't go over well with Camille when his phone rang during special occasions, like this one. He felt his phone vibrate a few times, and then it stopped. Then it started again, but it stopped and he was sure it was one of his brothers. They were hard headed enough to try a second time. He fought off the urge to excuse himself when it vibrated a third time. If his brothers were calling that much, it could be an emergency. He tried to convince himself that Bobby or Angel had simply forgotten that he'd told them the night before that he wasn't going to break these plans with his wife's family; she was looking forward to it too much, and after all of the support she'd given him over the past month, he couldn't stand to disappoint her or hurt her. She had backed him up on everything he'd done.

The talk around the table now was his big plans for his business. It seemed it was all wrapped up. He'd talked to Bradford and Green both and they seemed to have managed to rid the pot of all of the dirty hands that had been in there. He shouldn't have any more problems with getting his project started. Once he did, his family wouldn't have to worry for anything. There would be jobs for his brothers, and they could all stay together, like a real family should. It would have made his mother happy to know that they were all back home, and taking care of each other.

The phone fell still for a few minutes, and he was starting to think that maybe his brothers had gotten the message, or the memory of what he'd told them the night before sparked in their thick heads, finally. Then the vibrating started again.

"Excuse me." Jerry smiled and stood to leave the table. "I'll be right back." He looked down at Camille who was seated to his right, she was giving him a wary look, and she must have caught the sound of the phone vibrating softly because her eyes shifted toward the pocket that was holding the damned thing. He headed through the house to the first floor half restroom and closed the door behind him.

The phone was still vibrating when he pulled it out to look at the number. His mother's name flashed up, it was the house phone. He shook his head and answered. "This had better be good. I got shit goin' on here, just like I told you last night that I would." He warned before he even heard who was on the other end.

"Jerry, this is Jack," Jack's voice sounded strange, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly was wrong with it.

"Jack, man, I love ya' all, but I need this morning to be with my family, with Camille's family." Jerry started to explain to his brother.

"We've got a problem here Jerry, and I think we need to call Green." Jack spoke quickly, as if he were ignoring Jerry's words.

Jerry sighed heavily. "What kind of problem?" He asked, not sure he wanted to hear. "And why call me about it? Why don't you just let Bobby handle it?" He seemed to realize at that moment that for whatever reason Bobby hadn't been the one to call him.

"Angel took Bobby to the hospital." Jack's voice sounded shaky. "If I call them Bobby will make Angel bring him right back home before a doctor can take a look at him."

"They left you and Craig at the house alone? You're both okay, right?" Jerry asked quickly, visions of Craig and Jack both laying in the bed and the couch unable to move from the injuries both were healing from ran through his head.

"Yeah, we're fine, but…" Jack drew in a deep breath, but didn't finish the sentence.

"But what Jack? Why are you calling me if everything is okay?" Jerry was feeling irritated, but confused. "I made sure to tell you all where I was going to be today, and that I needed the time with my wife and childrdren."

"There were some phone calls. I thought it was kids calling pranks, you know, like we used to do when we were younger?" Jack asked, keeping his voice quiet.

"No, I wouldn't know about that, I never did stupid shit like that." Jerry's response was calm, and he had to smile as he said it. That was one stupid thing he never did when he was a kid, he'd had too much common sense, though he could remember Bobby, Angel and Jack all three huddled around the phone, disguising their voices for some poor fool on the other end of the line.

"Fine, Jerry, you never did normal kid stuff, I got it." Jack's voice snapped on the other end of the line. "It doesn't really matter. The first two calls there was nothing but breathing on the other end. The last time, he said something." Jack's voice was coming quick. He repeated the words that had been spoken by the 'unavailable' caller.

Jerry listened to them and shook his head as the meaning of the words cut into his brain. "No fucking way. Angel shot him. He fell into that pond." He barely got the words out.

"I don't know if it was him, but who else could it have been?" Jack asked the question in mostly a whisper. "Did they pull a body out of the water?"

Jerry shook his head slowly, shrugging his shoulders a few times, and then realized Jack couldn't see him over the phone. "I don't know." He admitted out loud. "Hell, we had Craig, that's all we were worried about at the time. He needed a hospital. We all gave out statements and we made sure they had Jordan in cuffs, and then we got the hell out of there. Left everything else up to the cops, and they knew that ass hole was in the water, we told them everything that happened."

"Wouldn't they have called Green if there was something we should know?" Jack asked. "I mean, it they haven't found a body, wouldn't they make sure he knew that?"

"I would think so. And Green would have let us know first thing if they had." Jerry let his butt lean back on the small counter in the restroom, suddenly feeling weak in his knees. "I'll call Green and then I'll call you back."

"Okay." Jack agreed quickly.

Jerry started to hang up, but then a thought hit him, "Hey, Jackie?" He spoke quickly.

Jack hadn't hung up yet, luckily, "Yeah?"

"Why the hell did Angel take Bobby to the hospital?" Jerry asked.

"He never did do what the doctor told him when he busted his ribs. He was supposed to be taking it easy, resting. Instead he was out running around like a mad man, diving onto docks." Jack spoke calmly. "He hasn't been doing what he's supposed to since you all got back yesterday either." He went on to explain about Craig's visit to the hospital the night before, and why, and how Bobby hadn't been taking his pills like he should, and how badly he'd been hurting. He explained the events of that morning, and how it had ended up with Bobby nearly doubled over in pain. "Angel dragged his ass out the door and took him to the hospital."

"So, if the caller was Macks, and he didn't call until they had left, then he might know you two are alone in the house man." Jerry was starting to worry now. "Get Bobby's gun and you stay close to Craig. I'm calling Green, and then I'm calling Angel, and then I'm on my way." The man didn't give Jack the chance to argue about the gun, he hung up the phone and started scrolling down through his contacts. He knew Jack had never liked guns, and he didn't like to be around them if he didn't need to be. Well hell, at that moment, he needed one in his hands, and he needed to be keeping his eyes and ears open.

Green answered his phone after the first ring. "Jeremiah, I was gonna call you in just a few minutes." He seemed to be in a good mood.

"Really, were you gonna tell me that they hadn't found Mack's body?" Jerry asked quickly.

"I wasn't going to tell you that, no." Green sounded a little surprised by the question. "What the hell is going on Jerry?"

Jerry quickly explained his conversation with Jack before asking, "Man, did they find Mack's body or not?" He asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice, and it wasn't too difficult as irritation at Green started to build. The man had to have known something that he hadn't bothered to share with them.

"The last I heard, they had been dragging that pond, but the ice was a problem and they had to delay the search." Green answered. "There's no way Mack's could have gotten out of that water, in the freezing weather, and lived, not with a bullet in him. Angel did say he shot him, right?"

"That's what Angel said, yeah, and do you think he'd admit to killing someone if he hadn't?" Jerry felt anger building up inside of him. "Why wouldn't you let us know about this? That lunatic could still be out there. Some one called the fucking house, man, this ain't right."

"Jerry, it's not like they are looking for a living, breathing man. They figured his body was lying at the bottom of that pond and they'd be able to find it once the ice cleared off the pond. In fact, I'm sure his body is at the bottom of that pond in all the fucking muck and dirt, right where the scum belongs." Green exhaled loud enough on the other end of the line for Jerry to hear it, and then went on talking. "I haven't been kept in the loop much with what's goin' on with the investigation. Macks took Craig over the state line, the FBI is leading the investigation, and they haven't let me know shit. What little I do know I've gotten from routine reports from the lead detective in Ohio, but he's getting his information from the Feds, so it's not like I know all the nitty-gritty on this." Green spoke calmly. "I'll get a unit to go over and park in front of Evelyn's house, okay? That's about all I can do right now. If Macks is still out there, I'll have to contact the FBI and let them know what the hell is going on here."

"Well, I'm calling Angel so him and Bobby know what the hell is goin' on, and then I'm heading over there myself." Jerry drew in a deep breath.

"Look, I'll head over that way myself, but it's not as a cop, it's as a friend." Green offered.

"Man, it's Christmas Eve, you ain't got family plans?" Jerry's voice came out a little calmer as he realized Green could be giving up family time to help them out. He'd been pissed that the man hadn't kept them up to date on all the facts, but it wasn't his fault. Green had done a hell of a lot for the Mercer family, and he needed to be a little appreciative to the man. He didn't have to step up and help with the Sweet situation, and now with the shit Macks had brought down on them. He damn sure didn't have to back Jerry up to clear his name for the sake of his business either.

Green laughed out loud over the phone. "I'm a cop Jerry. I don't ever have family plans." He sighed. "Don't worry about it. I'll meet you at Evelyn's and we'll figure this out, okay?"

"Thanks man, I'm gonna have to name my first son after you or somethin'." Jerry managed to force a laugh.

Jerry stepped out of the restroom, and wasn't surprised to find Camille standing in front of the door. Damn, he was gonna have to break her heart, and that thought tugged at his chest. "Baby, I know you're gonna be upset, but…"

"You need to go." Camille nodded her head. "Jerry, I know how things are, and if there's something wrong, you don't have to hide in the restroom to talk to your brothers about it." She reached out and placed both hands on her husband's shoulders. "But I do expect one hell of a Christmas present this year." Her lips creased slightly with a small smile.

Jerry felt his heart swell slightly, damn; he had one hell of a woman. "You know I love you more and more every day." He leaned down and gave her a kiss. "I'm really sorry. I know how much you've been looking forward to this." He waved his hand towards the kitchen.

"I know you wouldn't go if it weren't important. But I want to know what's going on Jerry. I don't want to be in the dark. You tell me what's going on." Camille's voice was quiet, but there was clearly no arguing with her.

Jerry drew in a deep breath and as briefly as possible explained Bobby's trip to the hospital, and Jack's phone call in the absence of any brother physically able to defend them. "I just want to make sure they're okay until Angel and Bobby get home." Jerry hated the look on his wife's face at that moment. "If that man is still out there, Craig isn't the only one in danger. He knows about you, and the girls, and I can't risk him coming after any one in my family, especially not my three girls."

Camille nodded her head and leaned up to give him a kiss. "You should have been a cop Jeremiah Mercer; you love the action, don't you." She managed a small smile.

"Hell no, I want to build things baby, I want to leave my mark on the world in other ways, not by chasing down the bad guys. For some reason though, the bad guys won't let the Mercers have a normal life." Jerry returned the kiss and then gave Camille a hug. "I don't want to go." He spoke into her ear.

"I know."Camille's response was soft. "But it's okay. I'll stay here with the girls until you call."

As Jerry was saying his goodbyes to his daughters and Camille's family he looked over at her, and decided right then that, yes, she deserved one hell of a Christmas present.

* * *

Jack hung up from his conversation with Jerry and looked towards the dining room. Craig was still sleeping as soundly as he'd ever seen him. He drew in a deep breath and pulled himself up off the couch. The guns were still in the tote in the closet. He went straight to it and got out the gun Bobby had been carrying most of the time. He checked it for ammunition before returning to the couch.

He hated guns, he hated bullets. He hated that he had to keep a gun on him at that moment, and he was tempted to put it up somewhere in the living room where it would be easy to get to, but still out of his hands. No, he couldn't do that. He was the big brother of the house right then, and if Macks was out there somewhere, he damn sure wasn't going to let him get his hands on Craig. He'd messed up twice now alread and damnit it, if something happened while Craig was under his watch this time he was going to take care of shit the right way.


	60. Chapter 60

Well, it's a little like the Energizer Bunny-It keeps going and going and going..... :) Thanks to all for reading, and as always let me know if you have any thoughts or suggestions!

Legal statement still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 60: Emergency Room Memories**

Bobby sat next to Angel in the emergency room. He was getting restless. He'd been sitting there for twenty five minutes, still waiting. He wasn't used to the waiting. When Jack had been brought in it had been in the back of an ambulance, and he'd been taken right in. The same with Craig, and Craig's other visits had been scheduled ahead of time, so there had been no real waiting. When it had been his first visit with his ribs, it had been a police escort that had gotten him in immediately, the same with Angel and Jerry on that particular night.

The emergency room was full of young mothers with sick babies, and kids with broken bones from stupid stunts that had resulted in falling. He loved kids, he really did. But these babies were sick, and they were crying, wanting to be comforted, wanting to feel better, and the sound of them all at once seemed to be more than he could take.

One mother and son were sitting directly across from Bobby and Angel. The boy, all of about ten years old was cradling his right arm in his lap. He looked like he was in pain, wanting to cry, and he was holding it in. His mother didn't seem very sympathetic to his plight. From the tongue lashing she was giving her son it was easy to piece together that this poor kid had thought it would be a good idea to try out his new snowboard on the garage roof in their back yard. He hadn't expected the roof to end so soon apparently, and had taken quite a tumble into the hard pack of snow on the ground.

Angel seemed to be listening to the woman giving the boy what for too. He looked at Bobby and chuckled softly. "Makes you wonder how in the hell Mom did it all those times, don't it?" He asked. "She brought every one of us in here at one time or another."

Bobby looked at his brother, a little confused by the statement. "What?"

"Don't tell me you weren't thinking about the times she sat in this emergency room with one of two of us, for hours, waiting to get us in the back." Angel let his laugh increase.

Bobby's face softened. "Actually I was thinking that woman over there could put her arm around her kid and tell him he's gonna be fine." Bobby spoke loud enough for the woman to hear, giving her a sideways look. She looked over at him and seemed surprised by his words. He didn't care, her scolding the boy when he was already hurting pissed him off. "He's a kid; don't you think kids screw up?" Bobby looked away from her before she could react to him, and focused on Angel. "I guess we did some pretty stupid shit when we were younger, didn't we?"

"As I recall, Jerry, the 'good' son, took a flying leap off the front porch roof one night, because he was mad at Ma for taking away his stolen portable DVD player." Angel laughed at the memory of Jerry jumping off the porch, all set to run as soon as he hit the ground. The broken foot that he acquired had screwed up his plans.

"Yeah, he was gonna sneak out of the house, run off, and it all back fired on him, didn't it?" Bobby also seemed to enjoy the memory of his brother howling in pain, crying for his Mama as soon as he hit the ground.

"Then there was you, coming home from school with a busted nose and hand." Angel shook his head. "Told her you fell off the swing, and you really thought she believed that too, didn't you?"

"She did believe me." Bobby insisted.

"Hell, she knew you got into a fight. She wasn't that stupid Bobby." Angel shook his head, his grin widening.

"She believed the swing story." Bobby spoke a little louder than he needed to. "She would have confronted me about that if she hadn't believed me."

"Bobby, you were sixteen, you don't think she knew you weren't playing on any swing?" Angel looked amused.

Bobby sighed and shook his head. "Just let me live in my own little world concerning that." He had to smile at the memory. Yeah, he'd known his mother wasn't so stupid to think he'd been swinging on the playground at the ripe old age of sixteen. She knew he was a fighter too, but she hadn't confronted him with it on that occasion. Hell, maybe she'd heard about the older kids harassing Jack, and knew that he was taking care of his little brother, he wasn't sure what all she knew about the incident. He only knew that he'd given her the lamest story ever and she'd never questioned it. "At least I had a better excuse than, 'I didn't think the blade was sharp enough to cut me'." He spoke with his whining, mimicking voice.

Angel stopped grinning and looked at Bobby. "Hell, I didn't know the blade was sharp enough to cut me, at least not that bad. When that kid dared me to test it, I couldn't back down from it." He defended the action of his twelve year old self slicing the palm of his left hand wide open with a pocket knife some kid had carried to school with him.

Bobby glanced over at the kid with the broken arm, a small smile had crossed his face as he listened to the stories being passed back and forth between the men, and he seemed to be feeling a little less berated by his mother. The woman now had her arm around the kid, as if she needed to protect him from the men sitting across from them.

Bobby was called back ten minutes after the boy with the broken arm, but they wouldn't let Angel go with him. He endured the examination, a trip upstairs for x-rays, and having his ribs wrapped back up with barely a moan. He didn't like needles though, he never had. When the nurse gave him his shot he complained, loudly.

He was disappointed that he hadn't run into Sarah while he was wheeled up for his x-ray. He'd hoped he'd at least run into her somewhere in the halls. He thought that maybe since they were there that once he was done he might take his medicated self up to the floor he knew she worked on and see if he could accidently run into her up there. He was sure he could find an excuse for roaming the halls of the unit where Jack had spent his first week in the hospital.

The doctor warned him that the shot he'd been given combined with the pills he'd taken before he'd come in would probably knock him out cold for a good twelve hours. Bobby laughed it off. He'd never had any kind of medication that could actually knock him out. It might make him groggy, and if he could, he would lie down and sleep it off, but he had more control over his body than to let any drugs control what he did. Besides, he had Craig to deal with and take care of. He had Jack to watch over, that kid was too fucking careless about everything he did, and he was still healing up.

By the time he found his way back to Angel, he had ditched his idea of going in search of Sarah. His head was spinning and his eyes felt far too heavy. Angel stood as he approached, and took hold of his arm to hold him steady. "You okay man?" He chuckled softly, knowing the eldest Mercer was pretty much at his mercy at that moment.

"Yeah, man, let's just get out of here and get home." Bobby glanced around at the new faces in the waiting area. Still young mothers with sick babies, but different than the faces that had been there when he'd been called back. The new batch held a few fathers as well, and that seemed to make more sense to him, than the group of lone mothers that had been there before.

Angel held his arm all the way to the car, and opened the door for him so that he could get in on the passenger side. He thought about complaining to his brother about letting him drive, but he wasn't feeling enough energy by then to start in on him. It would have been fun, but he was thinking that resting his head back and closing his eyes sounded much more inviting.

Angel got in behind the driver's side and started the car. He gave the car some gas, but he didn't put it in gear to back out of the parking spot. "Jerry called." He sounded far too serious for Bobby to keep his eyes closed.

Bobby looked over at him. "What?" He could read the tone of Angel's voice. Something was wrong.

"Jack called him." Angel looked directly at Bobby.

"Craig?" Bobby sat up in his seat.

Angel shrugged his shoulders slightly. "All of us." He drew in a deep breath. "Jack got a strange phone call after we left."

"What the fuck is a strange phone call Angel? Just tell me what is going on." Bobby was feeling irritated. He was too damn drug-dazed to try to concentrate on his brother's words well. Damn it, if that doctor was right he was going to be pissed. He didn't want to be knocked out cold. By the look on Angel's face, something big was coming.

Angel put the car in reverse and turned to back out of the space. "First call was nothing but breathing." Angel spoke calmly, but he didn't look calm. "The second was the same." He put the car in drive and hit the gas, driving through the parking lot faster than would have been acceptable if hospital security had seen them.

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "I take it there was a third call?" His eyes were starting to feel like sandpaper, and he felt like yawning.

"Yeah, there was a third call." Angel pulled out onto the street. "Whoever was on the other end of the line said he'd get him back, and that we wouldn't be able to find him a second time." Angel repeated the words that Jerry had told him.

Bobby stared at Angel for a long moment. The words were rolling around in his head. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Angel shook head. "I don't know Bobby, what the fuck do you think it means?" He asked.

"Shit," Bobby's brain was processing the information. "Macks?" He looked confused. "It can't be him; you fucking shot him down on that dock. He fell into the water. If the bullet didn't kill him he would have froze to death in that water." The yawn hit him at that moment. "Get us the hell home Angel, Jack and Craig are by themselves."

"Jerry's with them." Angel informed, though he did speed up slightly. "Jack called him when he got the call." He informed.

"Why the hell didn't he call us?" Bobby's voice rose slightly.

"Because he knows you too damn well, and he wanted you to get your ass to the hospital. He knew if he called us you would have made me turn the car around and head back." Angel's voice rose as well.

"Just how soon after we left did he get the call Angel?" Bobby asked, his drugged mind trying to cloud over on him.

"I don't know Bobby, I wasn't there. But apparently it was soon enough that Jerry thinks the ass hole might be watching the house." Angel drew in a deep breath.

"So Jerr' thinks Macks knew Jack was alone with Craig." Bobby felt pure rage building. "Shit."

"We don't know if it's him." Angel spoke quickly. "I mean, we both seen him go in the water. For all we know it's Wiston trying to pull some shit. If Macks didn't die out there at that pond, why would he call ahead of time? He has the ellimate of suprise if he' was out there and coming after the kid. Why blow that by calling us?"

"I don't know, because he's some crazy son of a bitch? Why don't we call Green and find out just what the fuck he knows?" Bobby suggested.

"Jerry already talked to him. He's off the case, and apparently we can be expecting a call from the FBI." Angel nearly snorted, and it didn't look right on him. "I guess Green went to the house, to be there just in case."

"What the fuck do you mean the FBI?" Bobby cried out.

"Well, when Macks took Craig across the state line it became a federal kidnapping. Despite the fact that we found him and got him ourselves, Green couldn't keep it out of the hands of the Feds." Angel shrugged his shoulders.

"What the hell else don't I know about this?" Bobby asked.

"Well, according to Green they stopped searching the water because of the ice. They were waiting, figured his body wasn't going anywhere." Angel glanced over. "Man, you look like you're about to drop." He commented.

"Yeah, well, that happens when they stick you with a fucking needle and tell you to go home and go to bed." Bobby muttered.

"Then that's what you'll do. I'll wake you up if anything comes up." Angel spoke calmly. "I don't think he's watching the house, or the call wouldn't have come from Jerry, it would have come from the cops. Macks wouldn't have given himself away if he was close. If it's him at all; like I said, it could be Winston pulling some shit."

Bobby didn't comment. He was fighting down the urge to close his eyes. Angel was probably right. If it was Macks, he would have never given them any notice before trying any shit. He didn't think it was Winston though. His brain couldn't quite grasp the facts at that moment. Damn doctor and his damn shot. He needed his senses about him at that moment, he didn't need to sleep. Of course he did feel better knowing that Jerry was at the house with Jack and Craig. He knew once they were home he was going to end up sleeping for at least a few hours, and he had no choice but to trust Angel and Jerry to look out for their younger brothers.

Hell, it felt wrong not to be alert enough to be in control at that moment, but he did have the common sense to know when he had to surrender his authority as the oldest to Jerry and Angel. It wasn't easy, and he damn sure wasn't happy with it, but as he rested his head back and closed his eyes, he was thankful that he knew he could trust them enough to be able to let them take over. Besides, it was only going to be for a few hours, until he could sleep off the drugs.

* * *

Craig woke slowly. The house felt too quiet, and he didn't like it. There was no noise from the television, and his brothers weren't harping at each other like they normally did. He sat up in the bed slowly, his tired mind trying to come out of the heavy sleep he'd been in. He looked into the living room and was surprised to see Jerry sitting in a chair, leaning towards the coffee table, talking to Jack quietly. Jack was holding something in his hand, but he couldn't make out what it was. He could see another man sitting in the chair that was sitting in front of the record player, but he couldn't tell who it was.

"Bobby?" He called out, but not too loud. He was sure Bobby was home somewhere. His mind was trying to wake up, trying to recall how he'd ended up in the bed in the dining room. He had to pee, and he wanted up. His head was throbbing, his chest was hurting, and his whole body seemed to have aches and pains and bruises that weren't normal. He needed Bobby.

Jerry and Jack both looked towards him. Jerry was on his feet and walking towards him before he had a chance to call out for Bobby again.

Craig looked at Jerry, feeling a little confused. "Where's Bobby?" He asked.

"Bobby and Angel had to go out for a little while." Jerry informed. "You have perfect timing; it's about time for your pills." He smiled at the boy, grabbed the pee bottle from the shelf on the wall and handed it to him, as if he were reading his mind.

"Why do I have to use this?" Craig asked; his voice still caked with sleep. He was confused as to why Jerry was there and not Bobby.

"Because you ain't getting out of the bed," Jerry seemed to think that should explain everything. "How are you feeling?"

Craig shrugged his shoulders. His mind was starting to function slowly, and his memories from that morning were starting to run through his head. He started to feel guilty for the way he'd been acting, and at the same time, he was remembering the anger that he'd been feeling. He wasn't sure now why he'd been feeling pissed and irritated with Bobby, but it had been Bobby, no one else really. He remembered the hard strike Bobby had landed to his mouth, but he wanted Bobby there now. "Where's Bobby?" Craig repeated his question, still holding the bottle in his hands.

Jerry drew in a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed. "Okay, listen, a few days ago Bobby had a little accident, and he busted up some ribs. He hasn't been taking care of himself, and it came back on him. He had to go to the emergency room and get himself checked out, that's all."

Craig stared at Jerry as his words sunk in. His mind seemed to be trying to pull in memories from the past few days, but he wasn't even sure what day it was at that moment. The last clear memory he had was being pissed about having to do his school work in the kitchen. "What happened to him?" His voice came out weak.

The idea of Bobby being hurt didn't seem to fit in with the image he had of his oldest brother. Bobby was never hurt. Bobby was too tough to be seriously hurt. Wasn't he? He felt tears sting at his eyes as his already fragile emotions started playing the 'what if' game that he seemed so good at. What if Bobby's injuries were worse because of having to deal with him? What if Bobby died at the hospital? What if the last time he'd ever see Bobby was that morning, when he'd been acting like a pure ass with him? What if he didn't die, but he came home and now he hated him because of the way he'd been acting? He had slapped the shit out of him that morning, what if he'd done that because he felt so bad and couldn't hold it in? What if...?

"Hey, it's okay." Jerry spoke quickly bringing him out of his little mind game. "He's fine Craig." He looked worried though.

"But, how did he break his ribs?" Craig asked in a small voice.

"It don't matter how he did it. He's fine, and he's not gonna want you to worry about him." Jerry reached up and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Okay?"

"I was an ass with him." Craig muttered, his tears trying to slip out.

"Yeah, I heard." Jerry nodded his head. "He knew you didn't mean it." He added, speaking slowly.

"But…" Craig started to say that he did mean it at the time, but he didn't mean it now, and he felt bad about it.

"Craig, don't worry about. You can talk to him yourself about it. He's feeling bad about slapping you, so the two of you need to talk, after he's had time to get some rest." Jerry spoke quickly. "Now, you take care of business with that bottle and I'll go get your medicine." He stood and walked to the kitchen.

Craig peed, careful not to miss the bottle. He was surprised when Jack walked in as he was finishing, but he let Jack take the bottle from him.

"How are you feeling?" Jack sat down on the chair closest to the bed.

Craig shrugged his shoulders, not really sure what the answer to the question was.

"You want anything to eat?" Jack asked.

Craig swallowed hard. "I'm sorry Jack." He muttered.

Jack nodded his head. "Apology accepted." He smiled at the boy. "It's okay kid; we know how you're feeling. That doesn't mean you can act like that again, but we can forget about it, all right?"

Craig felt the tears sliding down his cheeks. "I didn't mean it." He muttered.

"Craig, we already know that. It's okay." Jack stood and moved to the bed, putting his arms around Craig and letting the boy lean into him. "But next time we aren't going to let it go on like that. We all let you get away with it, and it's not gonna happen again."

Craig let Jack sit with him until Jerry returned with the handful of pills and syrup. Craig took them all without arguing. "Is it gonna make me sleep again?" He asked after the last pill was down.

"It might." Jerry nodded his head. "I'm gonna bring you some soup. I think you need to eat a little something. You shouldn't have all those pills laying on an empty stomach."

Ten minutes later Craig was sitting in the bed eating some soup under Jack's watchful eye, while Jerry took the bottle upstairs to empty it, and then returned to the living room and sat to talk to whoever it was that was in there. Craig wanted to ask Jack about the visitor, but he was sure if it was someone they wanted him to be aware of they would have told him who was there already. He figured it was best for him to not ask. He was fighting down panic, and his mind was trying to churn up more of the frustration that he'd been feeling earlier. He didn't want to feel pissed off again. He wanted to be glad to be home, though he wasn't sure where else he had been. He had been somewhere though, that much he knew. He let Jack take his empty bowl when he was done eating, and he lay down in the bed and stared at the ceiling. He really wished Bobby would get home.


	61. Chapter 61

Thanks to all for reading :) Let me know what you think !

Legal stuff still counts.

* * *

**Chapter 61: What Next?**

Craig drifted into a half sleep. He heard when Jack stood and returned to the living room to join Jerry and whoever their visitor was. He rolled over onto his left side, hugging onto the pillow, wishing Bobby were home. He wanted to see for himself that his oldest brother was okay. His emotions were still there, the hurt and anger, The guilt that Bobby's trip to the hospital was his fault, and the fear of somethng else that he couldn't quite focus on; but they were buried somewhere in the back of his mind, safely shut out for the time being, and he thought that maybe the pills were helping him to hold them down.

He didn't understand where the pills came from or why he had to take them. His mind was trying to pull back memories but he was fighting them down. He didn't want to remember whatever it was that had made him feel so crappy. He just wanted Bobby there with him.

He was trying to reason with himself that maybe there had been a car accident, his head felt awful, and his chest was bandaged. He could barely remember a visit to the emergency room, but he hadn't been happy about it, that much he was sure of. If it had been an accident, then why wouldn't he be able to remember it? He let his hand reach up between the pillow and his head to feel at the sore spot that seemed to be bugging him. He listened to the quiet voices in the next room, and he heard the front door when it opened and then closed, bringing the sounds of shuffling feet and new voices. He wanted to sit up and see if it was Bobby, but he was stuck in that half in half out state of sleep. He waited to feel his brother's hand press on his forehead, though he wasn't sure why, it may have been that he wasn't feeling very well and he wanted Bobby to take care of him.

Jerry had said Bobby was hurt, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to do much, but he wanted to know that he was home and okay; so long as he knew he was close by he would feel better. It scared him to think that his brother was hurt. It made him feel worse about the way he'd been acting with him that morning. He didn't understand why he'd felt the need to lash out at him, and yet he could still feel the churning emotions rolling around inside of him just out of reach. He didn't understand it.

"You awake?" He heard Angel's voice behind him, and felt a hand rest on his right arm. He rolled over onto his back, bringing himself out of his sleep enough to open his eyes and look at his brother.

"Where's Bobby?" The question came out before he could stop it.

"Well, hello to you too." Angel grinned. He pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Jerry's taking Bobby upstairs; he needs to get some decent sleep."

Craig felt crushed at that moment. Bobby had gone up to bed without coming in to see him. Was he hurt that bad or was he just that mad at him? "Is he okay?" He asked weakly, his mind waking up a littel more.

Angel leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "He's going to be fine. They gave him a shot at the hospital, and it's pretty much knocked him out."

Craig felt a little relief. "Does he hate me?" He asked, barely able to get the question out. He had to know though. After the way he'd been acting he wouldn't have been able to blame him if he did hate him. He had a strange feeling that Bobby had already decided he didn't want him once.

"No, he doesn't hate you." Angel looked surprised by the question. "Listen, kid, you gotta stop thinking shit like that." He spoke with a firm voice. "What, you think he's gonna wake up one day and decide he just don't like you? Hell, you're like his life line right now, so you'd better get that kind of thinking out of your head."

It was Craig's turn to look confused; he felt confused by Angel's statement.

"Listen, there ain't gonna be no repeat of this morning. If you are in a bad mood then we'll deal with it and figure out why, but no more acting like a five year old. You got that?" Angel drew in a deep breath.

Craig nodded his head. "I'm sorry." He muttered.

Angel started to say something, but stopped before the words came out. He glanced behind him to the living room. "What the hell happened this morning?" He asked as he turned and leveled his gaze back on the teen. "I want to hear it from you, what happened?"

Craig swallowed hard. "I don't know." He wasn't lying; the events of that morning were pretty hazy. He knew he'd hit at Bobby and kicked at him, and had talked to him in a way that he'd never thought he would; but he couldn't piece it all together in his mind, or remember why he'd felt so angry, or what exactly had happened or had been said.

Angel stared at him for a long moment. "What the hell do you remember? You said you were sorry, do you even know what you're saying you're sorry for, or are you just sayin' it?"

Craig swallowed hard. At that moment he would have welcomed that half sleep he'd been in just a few moments before, it would have been better than being scolded by Angel. "I acted like an ass." He muttered. "I remember that."

"Why did you act like an ass? You gotta remember that." Angel pushed.

Craig shook his head slowly. "I don't." He muttered, though his mind was trying to pull the memory out of the haze that he'd managed to hide it in while he'd been sleeping.

"Craig, you do you remember Bobby slapping the shit out of you?" Angel pushed.

Craig shook his head slowly, but the memory stabbed at him, and the right side of his mouth could remember the stinging sensation. "He hit me?" He felt the tears trying to build up.

"You don't remember that?" Angel looked skeptical. "You think about it, and I'll bet you remember it pretty damn good. You're just trying to forget it right now because it scared the shit out of you." He nodded his head slowly. "You kept pushing him, and he was holding back because you were hurt, trying to take care of you, and you kept getting worse, and pushing him harder. You got mouthy with him, and you hit at him when he tried to get you to do what the hell he needed you to do. You don't remember that?"

Angel's words were bringing back the morning with more detail, including the anger he had felt. "I didn't want to wash in front of anyone." Craig muttered quietly, averting his gaze past Angel, to the table behind him. "I didn't want to take my clothes off." He wasn't sure why he was feeling the shame that seemed to be creeping in.

Angel looked surprised, "Really?" He drew in a deep breath and leaned a little closer towards the bed. "You didn't tell anyone that this morning." His voice was quiet. "Why didn't you just tell Bobby that you felt uncomfortable with the way he wanted you to do it? He would have understood that a damn sight better than you pulling an attitude and pushing him to the point where he slapped the crap out of you."

Craig looked at Angel, letting the memory flood back into his brain. "I wanted to piss him off." He admitted. "I was mad at him, and I wanted to piss him off. But I don't know why. I don't want him mad at me, I was just mad at him."

Angel looked more confused than before. "What?" He shook his head. "Well you definitely pissed him off, now didn't you?"

Angel sat back in the chair and stared at Craig for a long minute, as if he was expecting some kind of response, but Craig had no idea what to say. He shifted his gaze up to the ceiling and swallowed at the tightness in his throat. "Did you have to take him to the hospital because of me?" He asked weakly.

Angel didn't answer right away. "No, I had to take him because of him. He made himself worse off. He wasn't taking the pills the doctor prescribed for him, and he wasn't resting like he was supposed to. He did some shit that he shouldn't have been doing." He hesitated for a moment before saying more. "He busted his ribs trying to take care of you, and then he made it worse trying to keep you safe. He didn't take care of himself, and then he let you push him until he lost control. It wasn't your fault, but I'll tell you right now, if you start pulling shit again, I'm gonna yank a knot in your chain real quick. There ain't gonna be no more attitude, and you sure ain't gonna treat Bobby or any of us with a lack of respect. And the next time to you talk about your mother, you'd best be doing so in a respectful way. You got that?"

Craig let the tears slide down his cheeks, and turned and looked at Angel, nodding his head slightly.

"Excuse me? I didn't hear that." Angel turned his head slightly to position his left ear to face him. "I seem to remember a rule around here about answering when someone is talking to you. You need to be reminded about that again?"

"I got it." Craig muttered.

"Good." Angel stood slowly. "You want to go see Bobby?" He asked.

Craig felt his heart beat speeding up. "He doesn't hate me?"

"No, he doesn't hate you. You're his baby brother, how the hell could he hate you? Jerry's getting him tucked in all nice and comfy in Mom's bed, and I'm sure you would rest a little easier if you were up there with him." Angel smiled at him, and motioned for him to sit up in the bed.

Craig sat up slowly and started to get out of the bed.

"No, you ain't walking." Angel stepped over and cradled the teen in his arms, careful to slide his broken arm under Craig's knees, using the crook of his arm to support them, so that it didn't put any pressure on the vinyl splint as he lifted him up from the bed. "You don't get up and walk anywhere, remember that." He carried Craig through the kitchen, the foyer, and up the stairs. Craig felt his stomach filling with a thousand buzzing bees the closer they got to the top of the stairs. He could see Jerry, through the door that was half closed, hovering over Bobby, who was sitting up on the bed, his feet hanging over the edge.

"Damn it Jerry, I said I ain't, gonna lay down, yet. I want to talk to him, I want to know, what the fuck, is goin' on, and I want to know, now." Bobby's words were coming out in broken phrases and they were slurring around as if he were in motion, though he was sitting down. He sounded weak, and drunk. Craig couldn't see his face, he was blocked by Jerry.

"Just pull your arm out of the shirt Bobby." Jerry was saying quietly. "You can talk to him after you get some fucking sleep."

"I want to talk to him now." Bobby's voice sounded a little stronger than before.

Jerry laughed, and spoke as if he were being well entertained at that moment. "You can't make it back down those stairs by yourself, and I sure as hell ain't dragging your heavy ass back down there, so you might as well just get this shirt off, pull off your pants and get into bed. I done got your boots off your feet, no thanks to any help from you."

"This is bullshit Jerry. I gotta right, to know what the hell, is going on." Bobby's voice rose slightly in volume. "Where the hell is Craig? I want to, see him."

Angel gave the door a kick with his left foot, pushing it open so that he could walk in with Craig in his arms. "I got Craig right here; now calm your ass down." He walked past Jerry and lowered Craig onto the bed next to Bobby. "He wanted to see you for himself." He looked at Bobby as he stood up.

Jerry gave up trying to pull Bobby's shirt off of him.

Bobby dropped an arm around the boy and pulled him closer to him. "You doin' okay?" He asked.

Craig turned into the man, but didn't grab hold, despite his desire to wrap his arms around him. He was afraid of hurting him. He let Bobby hold onto him, and felt a sense of relief fill him.

"He needs to lie down and let the pain killer the doctor shot him full of kick in and do its job." Jerry looked at Craig, and the boy realized he was talking about Bobby needing to lie down and rest. He pulled himself back from his brother, and moved over next to the wall, pulling the blankets up over him and laying down on his left side as he went.

Bobby looked up at Jerry and Angel. "I'll get, you both, back for this. I told you, I wanted to stay, downstairs with him." His words were still slurring.

"Yeah, but this way both of you are much more comfortable. Besides, you'd only stay in our way if you tried to get any rest downstairs and you know it." Angel looked at Bobby. "Craig wouldn't be a problem, but you are one hard headed bitch, you know that?" He let a grin cross his face. "Now take care of Craig and if either one of you need anything you yell. Don't try to get out of the bed Bobby, I'm warning you now."

"Or you'll, what, little brother?" Bobby started to pull his self up to his feet but only dropped back on the bed. He sighed while both Angel and Jerry grinned a little wider.

"Craig, if he tries to get up for anything you'd better yell for someone." Jerry looked at Craig. "We're counting on you to watch over his hard headed ass, got that?"

Craig nodded his head. "Okay." He muttered. They wanted him to watch over Bobby? It seemed odd to him, but he wanted to Bobby to do what he was supposed to, to heal up and feel better. He didn't like the idea of Bobby being vulnerable, it seemed wrong.

"Oh, are you, ganging up, on me too?" Bobby turned, pulling his legs slowly up onto the bed, and carefully easing his body back into the bed. He laughed quietly and looked over at his youngest brother. "You doin' okay?" He reached his right hand out and felt the boy's forehead. "Looks like, your fever broke, good." He stared at the boy for a long moment. "Get your ass over here." He patted the mattress next to him.

Craig didn't move. "I might hurt your ribs." He muttered.

"You ain't gonna hurt shit. Get your ass over here." Bobby's eyes slid closed as he patted the mattress again.

Craig moved carefully closer to his brother, wanting that safe feeling that Bobby's presence seemed too bring to him. Once he was close enough Bobby used his arm to pull him the rest of the way. Craig let his head rest on Bobby's arm as his arms wrapped around it. His eyes slipped closed and he felt his body relax, not realizing until then that he been holding in the fear of Bobby rejecting him because of the way he'd acted earlier that morning.

Bobby reached out with his other hand and grabbed hold of Angel's pant leg, without looking up at him. "Thanks, for bringing him, upstairs." He barely got the words out as he drifted into the drug induced sleep he'd been fighting against, with his hand still gripping Angel's pant leg.

"Man, I love ya, but you need to let it go." Angel laughed as he took hold of Bobby's wrist and dropped the now limp arm back onto the bed.

* * *

Green was standing in the middle of the living room when Jerry and Angel walked in. Jack was sitting on the couch, his body pulled up as if he were about to stand.

"What's goin' on?" Jerry asked, glancing from Green to Jack.

"He's on the phone with the Feds right now. Apparently they know something about the phone call." Jack kept his voice quiet.

"So, what, you still ain't gonna go out there and do any kind of a search to see if there's any sign that he might have gotten out of the water?" Green turned and looked at Jeremiah and Angel. "No, I think there is a possibility…" He sounded as if he'd been cut off from completing his thought out loud. He turned and put his back to the men, listening for a minute before speaking again. "No, you're talking about the safety of a fourteen year old kid here. Maybe I bent some rules on this one, but I made sure you knew what the hell was goin' on. You guys got this case now, why the hell ain't you doin' anything with it? You're just letting it sit as if it's a done deal, and this fucker could still be out there." He listened for a long moment. "So you're just gonna sit on your ass until the weather breaks before you take it any further? In the mean time, there's a chance that this lunatic is out there and will come back. You aren't even going to look into that possibility?" He took a few steps towards the dining room, but then turned and looked at the three Mercers in the room. "So, if this ass hole shows up here again, I can consider this my case, and I won't be held responsible if I don't call you in, am I hearing this right? Then send me something in writing. I want something stating that you are handing the Michigan side of this case over to me." He nodded his head before saying his farewells to whoever he'd been talking to and hanging up the phone. "Sorry sack of shit, don't know the difference between his ass and a hole in the ground." Green stared at the phone for a long moment before dropping it into his pocket and looking back at the three Mercers.

"Well?" Angel asked quietly, "What the hell was that all about Green?"

"As far as they are concerned the case is closed. Jordan's statement corroborated everything you said in your statements, and they figure it's a cut and dry deal. They ain't doing shit until the spring thaw, when they can drag that pond without any ice to hold them back. As far as they are concerned, unless Macks shows up in the flesh, he's dead." Green spoke with frustration.

"But what about the phone call?" Jack cried out, dropping back into the couch cushions.

"There's no way to prove that was Macks. It was made from a disposable phone from somewhere in Indiana. They feel it was some fucking coincidence; that some kids were playing games and just happened to say the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time." Green sighed.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Jerry cried out. "Damn, what has to happen for them to take this seriously? Does the man have to come back in here and try to steal our brother again? Kill us in the process?"

Green looked directly at Jeremiah, "When you get right down to it, then yeah, that's exactly what has to happen. They said I could keep the investigation open on my end, and if anything substantial comes up I can run with it, but I'm insisting I get some official documentation on that. The last thing I need is to be busted down to patrol for fucking with a federal investigation."

Angel nodded his head. "So what now, we gotta live every day worryin' about some crazy, sick bastard who could be out there watching us?" He asked.

"Man, the call did come from Indiana, so he wasn't close. Indiana would be reachable from where he was hiding out with Craig, but you shot him. He's gonna have to heal up, and get some shit together before he comes back this way. That is if he comes back this way." Green spoke calmly. "Look, you gotta try to think like him. What would you do if you were him? You would make contact with people you know, and you would have to rely on someone to pay for medical treatment."

"Winston." Angel spoke quietly.

"And maybe Jordan, the man is out on bond. Macks would trust him more than Winston right now. We don't know who all he might have in his pocket that he can contact. We thought we had them all, but that don't mean shit." Green looked startled when the front door opened and Sofi walked in.

Angel turned and looked at Sofi. "What are you doing here? I thought I told you on the phone to stay at your Mama's." He spoke calmly.

"I needed to get a few things, and I wanted to check on everyone." Sofi spoke calmly, but she stopped in the doorway and planted her hands on her hips. The fire behind her eyes seemed to flare when she seen the police were present in the house. "I did what you asked; I stayed with my mother last night so that you could get some rest. Am I going to be staying with her again tonight?" She hesitated long enough to point to Green. "When am I going to be coming back here? I am supposed to be a part of your family now, remember? I want to know what the hell is going on, I think I deserve that much." She narrowed her stare on Angel as her voice took on a heavier accent as her anger was building. "You called me once, and told me to stay at Mama's, with no explanation, and you haven't answered any of my calls since we talked, and you haven't returned any of them either. What is going on?"

Angel drew in a deep breath. "Yeah, baby, I'm sorry. I had to take Bobby to the hospital, his ribs, you know?" He looked tense now. "There is some shit happening, and I will fill you in on it as soon as I have a few minutes." He held his finger up to hush the woman when she started to open her mouth. "You do need to stay with your mother again tonight, because I want to be sure you're safe and I don't have to worry about your crazy ass getting hurt, okay?" He let his voice rise slightly.

Sofi looked a little surprised, but her face softened. "What is going on Angel?" She asked.

"You go on up and get some things together. I'll be up in a few minutes and I'll explain everything to you." Angel managed to level out his voice and sound a little calmer. "Please, just do that for me?"

Sofi stared at Angel for a long moment before nodding her head, turning on her heals and making her way up the steps.

Angel looked back at Green. "So what exactly are we doing here?" He asked the man.

"You all are going to stick together, keep an eye on that stubborn ass upstairs and make sure he doesn't go out on one of his solo hunting expeditions. Keep your eyes and ears open, and let me know if there are any more phone calls, or you see any one hanging around that looks the least bit suspicious. I'm going to start asking Jordan and Winston both some questions and I'll let you know what I find out." Green looked at Jerry. "I don't think you have anything to worry about at your place, if it's Macks, he's after that kid, and he'll be focusing on this house right here. I'm still gonna get another unit to watch your house too, just to be safe." He nodded his head, "Like I said, I don't think the son of a bitch is close, I think he headed the other direction to get medical treatment, and he's not gonna show up for a while, if he shows up at all. Hell, it could be that the Feds are right about this one, you never know. We'll just play it safe until we find out something for certain. In the mean time, you all need to concentrate on having some kind of a decent Christmas. I think you all need that right now."


	62. Chapter 62

Sorry for the delay :( Thanks for reading and let me know your thoughts! :)

Legal stuff still counts.

* * *

**Chapter 62: Christmas and Hope**

Craig held his breath. He was holding in the screams that were building in his throat. The weight pressing down on his arms was unbearable, digging into his muscles and crushing his bones, pinning him down in one spot and preventing him from moving while the razor sharp blade sliced at his chest. He deserved this for having the nerve to try to get away from him, this would remind him of what he was for the rest of his life, it would remind him who it was he belonged to, and why his brothers would never want him. The feeling of all hope being sucked out of him overwhelmed him. There was nothing else to hope for, it was too late.

The voice, raspy, grating into his nerves as it sounded out against the howling of the wind, telling him how his brothers didn't want him, they had handed him over, never wanting to see him again, never wanting to be bothered with him again. They never loved him, the old lady was the only one who cared, and now that she was gone, her sons, her four sons, didn't want him around, in the way. Why would they? He wasn't anything like them, he was dirty and tainted and they didn't want anything like him in their family. He was the only one who wanted him, and he wanted him for what he was. He had to learn how to deal with this man, and live the life that he was meant to live, with him. He had to listen, and obey, and do what was expected of him.

The words repeated over and over, the first words echoing through his head while the next were being spoken, causing a nonstop echo to sound out through his brain, vibrating against his skull and forming orange and red colors around the outline of the shape hovering above him as if it were a burst of light fighting to break free, blocking out his face, turning his form into a black, heavy shadow straight out of hell.

He tried to block out each slice of the blade, tried not to feel the pain on the outside of his body, while trying to drive down the devastating feeling of being cast off by the only real family he'd ever known. They had never wanted him, he'd been in the way, and he'd been too much trouble. He didn't walk like them, or talk like them. He'd let their mother die and let a man try to have him in ways that were disgusting. They had never wanted him to begin with, they hadn't liked it when Evelyn brought home another stray. Those had been the words he'd heard when he was small, and they only seemed to confirm that Adam Macks was telling him the truth. He belonged to him, and had to give up on ever being a real part of the Mercers.

The ink ran into the cuts, burning and staining as it penetrated his skin, marking him for what he was. He could hear the man laughing at him. His mind moved him from the floor, standing him on his unsteady legs in front of the bathroom mirror in the Mercer house. He was wearing a flannel shirt, the buttons hangin loose across his chest. He opened up the gap, looking at the mark, the letters AM stained an ugly blackish-blue. He could hear the hollow sound of laughing filling the house, and when he looked in the mirror he could see his brothers standing behind him, laughing and pointing at him.

Craig shot into a sitting position, his head throbbing hard with the colors trying to burst out of their cages, his chest aching inside and out, pulsing hard, as if someone were pounding on the inside, trying to escape. His body was covered with sweat and he felt sick to his stomach. He looked at the fading light around him in the room, Evelyn's room. He looked down at Bobby next to him, sleeping hard, unaware of what was going on around him.

Craig stared at the sleeping form, anger and hurt building inside. He'd let his father have him. He'd handed him over, tired of the trouble and disgusted by what he was. No one wanted him there; they had tried to get rid of him, but somehow had gotten stuck with him again. It didn't make sense to him, he didn't understand why they kept telling him they cared, and they wanted him when it was impossible for them to. How could they care about him when they knew what he was?

The colors were screaming at him now, screaming blue and red, flashing for only a fraction of a second in front of him with a sound so shrill it cut into his brain. They wanted out. He felt dizzy, and confused, and wanted to get out of that room. He waited until the colors quieted slightly before moving carefully down to the foot of the bed. He eased himself over Bobby's legs, and let his feet find the floor. He didn't look back to see if he'd brought Bobby out of his sleep. He walked to the top of the stairs, his only thought to move quickly down the steps and out the front door. He stopped at the top, at the sound of Angel's voice, and the sound of the television. He wouldn't be able to get past anyone downstairs, they would catch him and stop him.

He turned and walked to the restroom. He closed the door hard and locked it. He turned and looked at the room. He'd only managed to trap himself and he felt panic building up instantly. The walls felt as if they were breathing around him, expanding and then pulling in, and they were starting to talk in pink and orange sparks, telling him it was his own fault that he was hurting so badly inside. He never should have hoped to be a real person. He was never meant to be real, only a shell to be passed around and paid for. He had been foolish to let himself hope for anything else.

He stepped over to the mirror and looked at the long sleeved t-shirt he'd put on that morning. The dark blue seemed to glow around the edges. He pulled the shirt off quickly, letting it fall on the floor at his bare feet. He looked at the bruising and tiny scratch marks that ran up his arms, the bruises on his stomach that looked as if he'd been kicked hard, numerous times. His examination of his own body ended at the bandage taped securely to his chest. His ears started ringing loudly, pulsing with the rhythm of knocking on the door. He reached up with his hands and started pulling the bandage back from his chest; the tape peeling back from his skin, the sensation of being cut was brought back by the pulling his actions caused. He stared at the marks in the mirror. The letters he'd seen in his mind didn't stare back at him, only three lines of careful stitches, with clear tape layered over the each. He reached up with his left hand, feeling at the tape. The stitches started to itch and the feeling seemed to emit laughing. He let his right hand join his felt, trying to scratch at the itching that seemed to grow, trying to get to it through the tape.

"Craig?" The sound of Angel's voice came through muffled and warped to him, and the pounding on the door seemed to rise above the ringing in his ears, but he didn't really comprehend the sounds, they only took the form of colors, spiraling around him. He looked up at his face, at the yellowing bruise on his right cheek. He turned his head to the left to look at the small patch that had been shaved away from his hair, at the stitches that were embedded in his aching head. A bump was still clearly visible.

Had it been nothing more than a bad dream? He was feeling confused. He felt the room starting to spin, and his senses seemed to reach out and grab pieces of the dream that he hadn't noticed before; the smell of blood surrounding him, the image of Jerry looking at him through a window, and the sound of his father yelling at him that he wasn't to fight him. He knew these were memories. He knew it had happened. His father's voice seemed to strengthen, the words driving like a spike into his brain. "You still think the Mercers are going to come for you? I already told you, they don't give a fuck about you. They never wanted you to start with, the only reason they let you stick around after the old woman died was because they thought they'd be able to get some money out of the state for you. Hell, they found out different, and now, they don't want anything to do with you. I'm all you got boy. You might as well learn to live with that fact."

His mind couldn't envision his father speaking the words, it had been dark and cold and he'd been on his knees. It had been before the cutting, before the gun shots, before the two people had had been killed in front of him. Teenagers not much older than him, and he'd been foolish enough to think they could help him. His actions had gotten them killed.

Memories, not a dream, he knew that for certain. He'd been with Adam Macks, and he'd had to let the man take his soul from him in order to keep from dying. Tears fell freely as he let the memories come, though they seemed to be coming back out of order, not making sense to him, filling him with every emotion possible.

Flashes of Bobby sitting with him in the dark started to blend in with the sickening odor of charred wood and mildew. Before one memory could play out completely in his head another one would start, the two mixing and confusing him. It was as if it was coming too fast for him to keep up with. The colors started to break free, forming the spiral designs that seemed to fill the room, changing and spinning to the sound of the pounding on the door and the yelling that was trying to filter in from the other side.

The boy stared at the image in the mirror, no longer looking at himself, but at the memories that were playing out in front of him. The feel of being touched seemed to burn and sting at his skin as the memories of what his father and Jordan had done to him in that dark hole. The feeling of being locked in, alone, knowing that he was going to be left there for days with barely any water, and no real food. He'd lost his crackers. That thought hit him as the door burst open, shattering the parade of colors and images that were running through his mind. He didn't see the man walking up behind him, his focus was on the itching under the clear tape; but he felt the arms reach around him, to take a careful hold on his hands, pulling them away from his chest, stopping him from scratching at the tape.

The tears were falling steadily, and he let his eyes rise from where they had been locked on his chest, to look at Bobby's bloodshot eyes. His mind flashed an image of Bobby above him, holding him, pulling him up. "You caught me." He sobbed.

"Yeah, I caught you." Bobby stared back at him in the mirror. His breathing seemed to be short, and strained.

"Why?" Craig asked the question.

"Because you're my baby brother, and I love you." Bobby kept his hold on his hands. "You know that."

"He said you gave me to him." Craig sobbed. "He said you didn't want me."

"He lied to you." Bobby kept his voice quiet. "Did you really think we would give you to him?" He sounded surprised. He let his arms wrap around the boy, still holding onto his hands as he did, pulling his arms across his stomach. "He stole you from us. We fought like hell to stop him."

Craig felt his legs trembling under him. "But I was with him." He muttered. "You weren't there."

"We got there as soon as we could Craig. We tried to stop him; I swear to you, we tried." Bobby's voice sounded choked up.

"You shot him?" Craig asked, letting a new stream of tears pour out as the memory of watching the bullet exit Adam Macks' stomach came back to him, the look on Adam's face, and the motion of his body falling past him, into the icy water.

"Angel shot him." Bobby nodded his head slowly, keeping his gaze on Craig in the mirror. "And I caught you before you could fell, remember?" He spoke into the boy's ear, his voice taking on the same tone he'd used on him weeks earlier outside the store front.

"I tried to get away from him." Craig cried a little harder. "And he killed those people because of me. I didn't listen, and he killed them."

Bobby stared at him for a long moment. "That wasn't your fault. He killed them; you didn't do anything to them."

"I didn't listen to him. I got out of the basement and I tried to hide, and he…" Craig shook his head quickly.

"Craig, he did it, not you. It wasn't your fault." Bobby spoke a little more firmly, he glanced over at Angel, a concerned look on his face.

"He shot her in the head and it…" Craig choked back on his words as the memory hit him full force. "It was just like with my real mom." He cried out. "There was blood everywhere, and I can still smell it." He tried to pull back on his tears, but they were coming too strong now. "It was my fault he shot her. I made noise and she came to check on me." He made a small effort to pull free from Bobby, and his mind seemed to spring to life with the colors, the different designs spinning around him. "Oh God, make the colors go away, please?" He cried out, pulling against Bobby's hold again.

"Craig, I can't hold you, so if you try to pull away from me, I'm going to let Angel take you." Bobby winced, his voice caught in his throat as he tried to hold the boy a little more firmly. "Why don't we go back to the bed and talk there?" He moved to turn the boy, to try to pull him back from the sink.

"No!" Craig felt the anger returning full force, and pulled free from Bobby. He held onto the edges of the counter when Angel took Bobby's place behind him, the dark arms wrapped around him, pulling him back, away from the sink. The colors seemed to intensify, blocking out the restroom, pulling him into them.

He couldn't hold on, his fingers lost their grip as he was pulled away from the sink, to the middle of the room. He didn't want to go back to the bedroom, he didn't want to lie down, or sleep, or dream. He didn't want to be touched, or carried around like some piece of baggage. He wanted to be left alone for a while, he wanted to process the pictures and the words that were running wild in his head, and he wanted to understand what the hell he was feeling. He wanted to get rid of the colors, and be surrounded by quiet. He wanted his sketch pad, and he wanted to be by himself. He needed to get the memories out of his head and onto the paper so that he wouldn't have to carry them around with him.

He tried to hit at Angel, tried to break free of his hold so that he could run, but Angel wrapped his good arm around him, pinning his arms down before using his splinted arm to lift his knees in the same manner as he had earlier. He still squirmed in Angel's hold while he was carried to the bedroom. He wasn't released until he was lowered onto the bed. He pulled himself across the bed and put his back against the wall, drawing his knees up to his chin and hugged onto them tightly. He dropped his face down, squeezed his eyes closed and cried even harder than he had been. The spinning seemed to slow down, his head felt less pressure, the pounding slowly subsiding.

He felt the bed move and then he could feel the presence of someone next to him, sitting against the wall. He felt a hand rest on his back, and tried to shrug it off. The hand only came right back.

"I ain't goin' anywhere kid, so you might as well just accept that fact. You're safe, we ain't gonna let anything happen to you." Bobby spoke quietly, barely audible over Craig's bawling. "Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk to you. You let him take me." Craig didn't open his eyes or look up at Bobby. He wanted him to go away. He wanted to be alone, and he wanted the memories to stop coming to him.

"I made a mistake, I let you out of my sight. I ain't making that same mistake again." Bobby spoke quickly, leaning closer to him. "I thought you'd be safe at Sofi's. I had no idea what that ass hole was planning to do. I nearly got myself, and your other brothers killed trying to get to you and Jack." He informed him. "I would die to keep you safe Craig, and I swear to you, you will never spend another night away from this house. I'll keep you here, no matter what. You got that?"

Craig felt the man's arm snake around him, and pull him closer to him. "Is he dead?" He asked quickly, suddenly aware that his father always came back. He would never leave him alone, he knew that.

"Angel shot him, didn't he? He fell in that water and he never came back out. What do you think?" Bobby's voice sounded strange, but his words seemed to have the needed effect. Craig felt his body calming down slightly. The man couldn't come back from the dead. He couldn't come back to hurt him.

"You didn't give me to him?" The boy asked, pleading to hear Bobby say the words. He might be able to believe his father was lying if he could hear Bobby say the words.

"I did not give you to him. He stole you from me. You're my kid, not his, and I would never have handed you over to him. He lied to you Craig. Come on, you know he lied, don't you?" Bobby's voice was louder that time, and his tone was firm. "You are mine, I love you, and I'll be damned if you are ever leaving again. You're stuck with me and the rest of your brothers. We're gonna be fine, you are gonna be fine, and we'll get past all this shit. You are going to grow up, and go college and then go to work for Jerry, remember? We're gonna make the business work, and we're all gonna have some good money. You are gonna get married and have lots and lots of little Mercers running around for the rest of us to tease and spoil." He laughed a little.

Craig let go of his knees and turned into Bobby, careful of his ribs when he pulled his arms around him. "I'm sorry." He spoke quickly.

"Don't be sorry, it's okay. You gotta get it out. Go ahead and cry." Bobby let a hand fall onto the boy's head and started running his fingers through his hair, the way their mother would have if she'd been there.

"I'm mad at you, and I don't know why." Craig confessed, burrying his face into the man's shirt.

Bobby was quiet for a long while. "Hell, kid, everyone's always mad at me. I give people plenty of reasons to stay pissed at me." He kept his voice quiet, and leaned closer to him. "If you want to be pissed at me, then go ahead and be pissed. Just remember, you can feel pissed all you want, and you can tell me all about it, we can work it out and help you feel better, but it goes no further than that. You will not get away with acting like you were acting this morning. No more talking like me, you aren't old enough to decide what words you use, no acting like a spoiled brat, and you never talk about our mother like that again. It will not happen." The man kept his voice calm. "I'll work on cleaning up my mouth around you. I shouldn't be talking like that with you, I'm being a bad influence."

"I don't want to be mad at you. I don't want to feel like this." Craig felt his tears increasing. "I want it to stop." He cried out.

"It will, but it's gonna take some time." It wasn't Bobby who spoke, but it Jack.

Craig didn't look up, he knew Angel was in the room, but he hadn't realized Jack was there. He listened while Angel and Bobby gave Jack a quick lecture about climbing the stairs.

"I'm fine. I have every right to be up here too." Jack sat on the bed and moved to sit on Craig's other side, sandwiching the boy in between him and Bobby.

"Well, since it looks like the two of you are going to be up for a while, maybe we should all just go back downstairs." Angel spoke from where he was still standing at the side of the bed. "It's Christmas Eve, you all know what that means."

Bobby and Jack were silent. Craig opened his eyes and looked up at Angel. "Popcorn and hot chocolate." He muttered. It was how his mother had managed to keep all of her sons in the house on Christmas Eve every year, they strung popcorn and drank hot chocolate and talked about what they were hoping to find under the tree. Evelyn would talk about past holidays, and the fun they'd had.

"That's right. We can't have Christmas Eve without popping corn to string up for the tree, and drinking hot chocolate." Angel grinned at the boy. "You feel up to that? It was Mom's favorite part."

Craig stared at the man. "What's the point? It's not like we're really gonna have a Christmas." He felt his heart shifting it's focus to the fact that his mother wasn't there. The thoughts and memories that had been attacking his mind seemed to pull back, just enough to let the focus change to Christmas, and his mother. He welcomed the change, it seemed to ease the confusion a little. The aching he felt for his mother wasn't confusing, it was understandable, and normal.

"What do you mean we ain't gonna have a Christmas?" Bobby pulled the boy free from his hold and sat him up against the wall so that he could look directly into his eyes. "You might just be surprised come morning when you wake up and see what Santa has left under the tree.

Craig looked up at Bobby, his irritation with the man was still there, but it wasn't at strong. Adam Macks had lied to him, he knew that, he just had to keep reminding himself of that. Bobby had taken care of him, and had made sure that he was safe. He'd come for him, and he'd reached out and caught him when he'd thought he was going to die.

"Hey, you wanted a Christmas, we're gonna have a Christmas. A real Mercer Christmas, with all the food, and the popcorn, and the hot chocolate, and the presents." Jack leaned down and spoke quietly. "I know t where they hid the boxes if you want to sneak off and take a look later."

"You ain't showing him shit." Bobby spoke quickly. "Don't be tryin' to get him to go looking around like we used to when we were younger."

"What happened to watching how you talk around him?" Jack looked at Bobby, a twinkle in his eyes as he teased his brother. "You don't want him to pick up on your habits, now do you?"

"Shut up Jack." Bobby raised a hand and pointed his finger at Jack as if to show he was in charge. "Go get that thing you make noise with and meet us downstairs. I don't want to catch you dragging your sorry ass-butt up here again." He ordered.

Jack laughed at the correction Bobby had made to his own words, though it had been a little late. He stood and looked at Craig. "Meet you downstairs."

Craig was surprised that he was allowed to walk down stairs on his own two feet, though Bobby kept an easy hold on his arm all the way down, and Angel stayed close to him as well.

He watched as his brothers bickered good naturedly with each other over the course of the next couple of hours. Angel popped the corn and made the hot chocolate the old fashioned way, just like Evelyn would have if she'd been there. Jack played his guitar, strumming out Christmas music while they waited for Angel to finish. They strung popcorn, eating more than they got on the strings. His brothers all talked about their favorite Christmas's. He listened and his mind let go of the rest of the nightmare the past week had been. He let his mind fall into the illusion that there was nothing beyond the living room, it was just him, his brothers, and Christmas. It gave him a little time to escape from the reality of what had happened. He was surprised at how easily it had been to let go of the visions in his head, and cling to the comfort of being home, and the feeling that Christmas brought to him. He focused on his mother, and on his first Christmas with her. All good boys and girls got presents on Christmas morning, that's what she had told him, and that had been the first time that he felt as if he were worth something more than what Adam Macks had turned him into. Maybe he could let this Christmas be the same. Maybe he was worth more than what Adam Macks had tried to turn him back into.

The idea of Christmas seemed to bring him a feeling of hope, and that was something he needed at that moment. He looked at Bobby, watching the man playing with his popcorn, tossing it into the air and catching it in his mouth, like a kid, and for the first time he didn't feel the anger towards the man that he'd been fighting against. He felt about as good as was possible, given the situation, with the memories that were still at the back of his mind. He would deal with those memories later, at that moment, he just wanted to enjoy being with his brothers. He did pull his sketch pad from the coffee table and keep it by his side as he strung the popcorn, knowing that once he had a chance, he had plenty of memories to empty into it. He was going to need a new one, and he was going to need it soon.


	63. Chapter 63

Final Chapter, and I feel like crying :(

But I can't do a 3rd part if I keep this one going forever, right? Thanks to all who have read and reviewed both of the stories! I have become addicted this :)

Let me know what you think, and yes there is going to be another one, I just can't get these guys to shut up!

Legal stuff still counts...

* * *

**Chapter 63: A New Start**

Craig rolled over on the couch, pulling the afghan up around him, shivering from a slight chill in the room. He opened his eyes and looked to see where he was. The glow of the Christmas tree was the only light, but it was enough that he could see the living room clearly, as well as Bobby sacked out in the chair in front of the fireplace, which had been burning before, but was now nothing more than glowing embers. Bobby had his legs propped up on the coffee table with his bare feet sticking up over the edge of a half full bowl of popcorn. Craig's mind slowly came out of sleep enough to remember why he was on the couch.

He had eaten a bowl of soup the evening before, and the empty bowl was still on the coffee table, amid the beer bottles that his brothers had managed to empty after they'd had their hot chocolate. His own empty glass set next to the soup bowl, a reminder that he'd taken all of his medicine after he'd eaten. He had returned to stringing the popcorn while his brothers got into a contest to see who could embarrass each other the most with stories from the past.

His last memories from the evening before was that of Bobby and Angel throwing popcorn at each other, first to see if they could hit each other's mouths, but then one of them threw one a little too hard, and there was retaliation by the other, though Craig wasn't sure who it was that actually started the popcorn war, but the kernels were soon soaring back and forth across coffee table by the handful. Angel cried out after one particularly hearty throw by Bobby, complaining that one of the white fluffy morsels had hit him in the eye, and of course Bobby couldn't let that go, calling him everything from his little sister to a princess. He offered to go out and find Angel a tiara and scepter, or maybe Jack would give up his for the cause.

That drew Jack in on the teasing, and somehow Jack and Angel had managed to turn it around on Bobby, telling the eldest of the bunch that he seemed awfully homophobic, and that maybe it was a way of blocking out his true desires. He was always preaching to Jack to admit his true feelings, and maybe he should be following his own advice.

Craig was bothered by the words at first, but he let the uneasiness go as he remembered all of the other times his brothers had joked around in just the same way, and he realized it would feel wrong if they didn't throw the insults back and forth at each other. It was all in fun. He didn't want them changing how they were to make him feel more at ease, it would only make him feel that much more self conscious. Besides, some of it was pretty funny and he found himself almost to the point of wanting to laugh at them. Almost, but it wouldn't quite come.

He still had a lot of confused emotions inside of him, and he was still struggling to hold back the anger. He was beginning to think that maybe he wasn't really angry at Bobby; Bobby had just been the easy target, and he probably would remain the easy target, because he was still feeling his anger focus on him, but he knew it was something more. He just had to figure it out, if he could figure it out.

At some point after that he had drifted off to sleep on the couch, listening to his brothers, and feeling warm and comfortable, and finally feeling as if he were home. He could barely remember someone trying to get him to get up so that he could be taken upstairs, but he didn't want to move. He was sure it was Bobby who had leaned close to him and told him that he'd be close, if he needed anything all he had to do was yell. Then the afghan had been dropped over him and a pillow stuffed under his head.

Craig sat up slowly and looked at the tree. There were numerous packages wrapped in brightly colored paper resting around the bottom. Beneath the boxes he was sure he seen the tree skirt that he'd made for his mother. The school project he'd been so proud to give to her. It hadn't been under the tree before. He remembered that the other skirt had been laid out around the base of the tree when it had been put up in the living room. He couldn't help but wonder when it had been changed, and why. He looked at the boxes, taking a mental picture of the tree as it was at that moment, with the presents sitting under it, the warm glow of the lights playing with the different colors of the decorated paper. He drew in a deep breath and for a moment was sure that he'd caught a whiff of his mother's perfume.

He sat back into the cushion of the couch and looked over at the chair in front of the fireplace. His oldest brother was sleeping soundly, and Craig wondered how he could stand sleeping in that chair with his injured ribs. He knew Bobby had put himself in the chair to stay close to him, and that idea made him feel a little more secure with being home. It also made him feel a little guilty. Bobby might not be taking care of himself, thinking he had to be there with him. He didn't want to be the reason Bobby had to be taken back to the hospital again, he couldn't stand that thought.

His mind recalled his imaginary Bobby, the one that had stayed with him while he was locked up in that basement room. He had talked to him, and told him what to do. He knew it hadn't been real, he'd known at the time it wasn't real; it had been his own mind bringing something familiar and safe to him, to help him get through what was happening to him.

He understood why it had been Bobby that he'd needed. He had wanted his mother initially. He'd wanted her to come to him and comfort him the way she had when he'd been kidnapped by Sweet. He understood now that his mind knew he'd needed more than comfort; he'd needed someone who could help him take some kind of action to survive. He had known, even in a drugged and confused state that his life was in much more danger in his father's hands than it had been with Sweet. His father never had cared if he killed him, he didn't care about him at all. He was nothing more than a possession to that man, something that could be discarded if the need arose. To Sweet, he'd been something more, a bargaining tool for his brothers, and somehow he had understood that on a level that he couldn't quite reach consciously, so his brain had brought Bobby to him, to tell him what he needed to do to survive. That must have counted for something. Somewhere in his mind he must have felt that Bobby cared enough for him to get him out of there, right? No matter what Adam had said to him, he'd come to realize in the past weeks that his brothers wouldn't just get rid of him, no matter how much of a problem it seemed he'd been, it just took a while for him to realize that he knew that, deep down. He still needed to learn how do deal with them from day to day, but the foundation was there, or at least it seemed to be.

He hadn't made it easy for them, he knew that. After the funeral, he'd tried his best to push them away, even though all he wanted was for them to include him. They were all he had, though he was still getting to know them. He'd been so afraid of losing his home and the only family he'd ever really known that he'd blocked them out, and they had fought to get through the walls that he'd put up. Bobby had definitely included him in much more than he'd ever expected that first week, making sure he was there when Stanley was taken care of, and as strange as it sounded, it was exactly what he'd needed. Not that he had needed to see Stanley die, and to be honest, he hadn't really been able to see that through all of the snow, but he'd needed to be included in their hunt for the truth of what had really happened to their mother.

Then Sweet had made his move, and Jack had been shot. They had come for him then and had taken care of Sweet. He hadn't made it easy for them after that either, falling into the same pit of fears that always seemed to draw him in when things got ugly. He had fought them all again, trying to keep them at a safe distance. And it seemed as though just as his life was starting to feel normal again, it had been ripped right out from under him.

He could feel his fears and confusion trying to suck him back in, and this time the anger was mixed in with it, stronger than he'd ever felt any other emotion. He didn't want to fall into that self contained pit that he was so used to retreating to, not with all of that anger to eat away at him. He didn't want to put the walls up, and he didn't want to hide from what he was feeling. He wanted to face it this time, and let his brothers know that he understood they had done the best they could.

He did know that they had done all they could to get to him as soon as they could. He wasn't sure how long he'd been subjected to Adam Mack's form of parenting, it had felt like forever, but he was sure that when he was able to talk to his brothers about it more, they would share more details with him, at least he hoped they would. He could feel questions stirring inside of him. How did Adam get him? How did they find him? How long had he been with him? What about Jordan, what had been done about him? He had a vague memory of a cop in the hospital room, wanting to talk to him. Was he going to have to talk to any cops? What was he supposed to say?

He let his gaze shift down to the coffee table, and the mess that his brothers had left there from the night before. Jerry would throw a fit if he walked in and found the table looking like that. He noticed his sketch pad near the edge of the table closest to him. He reached out and picked it up, pulling it to him. He knew he should lie back down and try to go to sleep, but he wasn't tired, no matter how late, or since he was sure it was morning, how early it was. The house was quiet, and peaceful, and he could think, and let his mind release some of the memories that he needed to get rid of.

He opened the sketch pad and let the pencil roll into his hand. He leaned towards the tree, to take advantage of the soft light glowing from the strings of multi colored bulbs. The colors from the lights didn't bother him, at least not at that moment. They weren't trying to play tricks on his mind and turn into something more than what they were.

He stared at the paper, holding the lead of the pencil to it, and closed his eyes for a long moment. He felt his hand move slightly, and the beginning of the picture in his head was born. He opened his eyes and watched as his hand moved, having to make the effort to think about the curves and lines that he was etching out. He usually didn't have to put that much thought into drawing, it normally came easy, without having to think about it. He kept the picture in his mind and the pencil scratched across the paper, first forming the outline of a head, and then focusing on the face. The most prominent memory in his head was slowly taking form in front of him; Bobby's head and shoulders hanging over the end of the dock, his arms reaching down towards him, his hands gripping his wrists. The clouds above him were swirling around as if a storm was brewing. The ice cycles that hung down off the bottom of the dock were clear and clean, but it was a frightening sight despite their appearance, because he never should have been able to see them hanging from the bottom side of the wooden dock, it wasn't a natural position to be in, it was wrong.

As he drew, his hand started moving with less effort, and he didn't have to concentrate so hard. He felt his mind release the memory completely, and it flowed onto the paper. Once the first memory was out the next one came to him. He flipped the page over and moved on, letting his hand take over and move on its own. The second image wasn't one that he really wanted to concentrate on too much. The image of Adam Macks above him, saying things to him that he would rather not remember, but he had to get the picture out of his head, and this was the only way he had to do that. It was as if he could feel his father's presence leave his mind as he drew the image on the paper.

He continued drawing until he'd emptied several more memories out of his head. He felt a little less tension in his muscles by the time he had finished the fourth drawing. He was working on the fifth page when movement from the chair drew his attention to Bobby. He looked up to see the man staring back at him. Both were quiet for a long moment.

"How long have you been awake?" Craig finally asked.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same question." Bobby's voice sounded thick. "You okay?" He asked.

Craig nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm fine." He muttered, looking down at the page in front of him, and then looked back at Bobby, feeling a little annoyed that his quiet, private time was ruined.

Bobby shifted in his chair slightly. "You really needed to do that right now?" He nodded towards the pad of paper that rested in the boy's lap.

Craig shrugged his shoulders, not really wanting to answer the question.

"Well, if you need anything you wake me up. I for one feel like sleeping until Angel comes running down the steps like a freakin' school girl all excited about getting to open his presents." Bobby rested his head back and closed his eyes. He had been a little more careful about his choice of words. He'd slipped a few times since his promise to curb his use of a few choice words. To be honest, Craig didn't see the need for his brother to change how he talked. He heard the words everyday at school, and he had been known to cuss before his brothers ever came home. He didn't pick anything up from them. Of course, he hadn't let it happen in front of his mother except that one time. After he'd discovered the taste of Ivory soap his urge to cuss around his mother had been curbed completed.

Craig was surprised Bobby was letting him stay up with his sketch pad. He'd expected his brother to tell him to put the paper away and go back to sleep. He stared at the man, waiting for him to open his eyes again, but he didn't. He looked down to the packages under the tree, and realized he hadn't been able to get anything for his brothers. He didn't have any money, and it's not like he'd been able to go anywhere to get them anything. That past week had been a mix of confusion. That thought led him to wonder how any of them had managed to get presents in such a short time. When had any of them gone shopping? When had any of them had the chance?

He hadn't really expected presents to be under the tree, even before. He'd been happy just to have a tree, to have the decorations out and feel as if there were some connection to his mother. But now he felt guilty about not even considering getting something for his brothers. He looked back at Bobby and put his sketch pad down. "Bobby?" He spoke quietly.

The man opened one eye and looked at him, "Hmm?" He responded quietly.

"I don't have any presents to give to anyone." Craig muttered.

Bobby opened his other eye and looked at the boy as if the comment shocked him. "You already gave us your presents." He pointed up at the pictures hanging on the wall above the fireplace in the fresh wood frames they had made for them. "Those are our presents, and having you home and safe is the best present ever." Bobby shook his head. "You don't worry about anything more."

Craig stared at Bobby. The need to draw was fulfilled for the moment, and now his mind was wondering to other things. "Is he really dead?" He asked the question carefully, not sure if Bobby would be upset by it or not.

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "They haven't pulled a body out of the water Craig, so I can't say that he is, not right now. All I can say is that I saw Angel put a bullet in him, and I watched him fall into the water. No matter what though, we will make sure it never happens again. Until they pull his body out of that water, we aren't going to let our guard down." He drew in a deep breath. "Is that going to be enough for you right now?"

Craig thought about the words. Bobby was being honest with him, but the thought that his father could still be out there fuelled the fear inside of him. "I don't know." He muttered.

"You got us, and we know about him now. We didn't know before. That makes a difference, don't you think?" Bobby pushed.

Craig nodded his head slowly. Yes, it did make a difference. "I guess." He swallowed back the fear. "Can I come over there with you?" He asked the question before he even realized he needed to feel Bobby close to him.

"It would be a little crowded over here, don't you think?" Bobby grinned at him and stood slowly, dragging his blanket with him as he made his way around the coffee table to sit on the couch next to the teen. "Come here." He lifted his arm and let Craig lean over next to him.

Craig waited to see if Bobby would say anything else. He was hoping he wouldn't. He didn't want to talk right then, he just wanted to feel safe and soak in the quiet around him. Bobby didn't say a word; he rested his head back and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, somehow managing to miss the beer bottle, popcorn bowl and Craig's dishes from the night before. Craig drew in a deep breath, and was sure for the second time that morning that he could smell his mother's perfume, giving him the feeling that she was near. He let his body relax and closed his eyes, feeling sleep pull at him though he was sitting up on the couch, leaned into Bobby. This Christmas was going to mark a new start, he would leave the bad memories behind him, he would deal with all of the emotions that were tugging at him, and he would get past them and survive them, he owed that to the woman who had saved him seven years earlier; he owed that to Eveyn Mercer, his mother.

* * *

He hated motels. He hated the stench in the rooms, and the film of grime that seemed to cover everything. He'd been there for a day now. He'd managed to dope up enough that he didn't feel the bullet hole in his back or the exit wound in his stomach.

By all rights he should be dead, he knew that. He had gone under, and had been ready to give in to the urge to take in the icy water. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs he'd loaded up on before, or the ice cold water that had kept his senses pulsing, kept his brain whirling with activity. He could barely remember it all, pushing with his feet off the bottom of the pond and making his way back to the air at the surface. In many ways Adam Macks had died that moment he'd broke the icy surface of the pond.

He'd managed to make it to the water's edge, and had watched as the Mercers carried off his son. His son was being stolen from him again. First the old lady had refused to return him when he was released from prison, and now they were carrying him away, ruining the plans he'd made. His rage burned deep inside, and that had given him the will to drag his self out of the water. He'd made his way unsteadily to the small shed on the far side of the farm. It had been used for storage years before, but it was hidden in a thick overgrowth of brush and weeds. Even in the winter months the graying wood of the small building was invisible behind the dead growth.

He hadn't been able to do much but wait, freezing, but he was out of the cold wind, and was able to use some empty burlap sacks for warmth. The cold temperatures probably kept him alive, kept his blood flowing slowly, and stemmed the bleeding from his wounds. He hadn't stayed in the shed too long once his mind managed to work out a plan of escape. He was sure Jordan would squeal like a fucking pussy just to save his own ass. The Mercers had a cop working with them and that meant that the police would be pulled in to investigate the whole mess. He had to get the hell out of there without being seen, so he couldn't chance contacting anyone he knew in the area. He had only one choice, to lay low someplace safe. He needed cash and warm, dry clothes.

Once he thought it was safe enough to venture out, he'd headed for the road, for the next town, London. It was dark by then, and the air felt like ice cold knives cutting into him. He had avoided any cars, not wanting anyone, even a total stranger to see him. He found his way to the old thrift store on the edge of town. It had been there for years, and he was sure it would be there forever. He busted in the back door, surprised at first that no alarm sounded. He had planned on a quick smash and grab, but as it turned out he'd been able to take his time.

He'd found clothes and a warm coat. A new pair of used boots and even a back pack to load up with more items. He had found some towels and sheets, discarded items that the poor would come in to purchase cheep. He'd torn some of those sheets up and had found the restroom in the back where he'd doctored his own wounds as best as he could for the time being, wrapping the strips of sheet around him to bandage the holes in his body. He invaded the office, where he thought he might find a safe to bust into. Instead he found only a desk. He busted open the locked drawers and felt like a kid in a candy store. He found the cash bundled in money wraps, ready for a deposit the next morning. He stuffed the bundled bills into the pockets of his donated pants and headed on foot for the truck stop next to the interstate.

From there it was easy to find a ride with a truck driver headed west. He just needed to rest while he rode. He had contacts in Indiana, and Illinois. He knew of a clinic just across the Illinois state line, no questions would be asked and he could get the treatment he needed. He had paid the truck driver what he could afford, and told him not to ask him questions. He didn't want to kill the man; he didn't want to leave any kind of a trail. Thank God the man hadn't asked about anything, he just drove his truck and stayed quiet. He liked it when people did what he told them to, it made life so much easier, for him and for everyone else.

The doctor at the clinic hadn't asked any questions either. He'd been stitched up and shot full of antibiotics before the doctor gave him a good amount of pain pills and sent him on his way. He'd been ready to drop, but before he could find a place to crash for a while he needed some kind of ID. It hadn't been hard to find on the streets. He had the cash to pay for a new identity, Jeff Jones. It was one of those names that wouldn't stand out. It sounded boring, and at that moment he needed to be as boring as possible to anyone who met him.

Once Jeff Jones had stopped at the corner liquor store he'd found the motel and registered for a room. He'd gone to his room and filled up on whiskey and pills, passing out once his body had been drugged enough to ease his pain. He'd wake up long enough to fill back up on the booze and meds and then pass out again. He didn't venture out until early Saturday. He found a department store nearby and had splurged on the phone. He needed a way to contact people he knew without it being traced back to him. Yeah, the disposable shit was the way to go. He could use up the minutes and then pitch it.

He tried Jordan, but got no answer. Hell, for all he knew the man was in jail. He tried Winston, but got no answer from him. He should have known not to waste his time on that son of a bitch. Hell, the only one who bothered to answer was Higgins, and he gave him all the fucking information he needed. He should have called Higgins from the start. The sorry shit was the only one who seemed to come through when he needed him to, or at least the only one who didn't argue about every fucking thing with him.

After his talk with Higgins he'd drugged himself up again, to kill the pain. He was too damn drugged up to control the urge to call the Mercer number. He never should have done that. As far as they were concerned he was dead, and he should have kept it that way. He hadn't been able to resist though. The idea that they thought they'd gotten the better of him ate away at his self control. It pissed him off that they thought they could steal his kid from him; just put a bullet in him and leave him for dead, and take his son. He was his son, he belonged to him. He owned him. He would get him back, and he'd make sure to take out the Mercers in the process. They'd caused him too much fucking trouble. They never should have screwed around with Adam Mack, and Jeff Jones would show them that. Jeff Jones. Yep, he liked the sound of that.

Now, Christmas morning was bringing new ideas and sparking new plans. Yes, it was Christmas, and the Mercers were probably all tucked away tight in their beds, thinking they were safe, and that they had nothing to worry about. That spoiled brat was probably snuggled down good and warm, thinking he'd gotten away with some shit, but he'd teach him a few things once he had him back where he belonged. He belonged with his father. Maybe the boy and the Mercers didn't have anything to worry about that day, but a brand new start was just around the corner with the coming new year, for Jeff Jones. He had been reborn, with a new name, and a new purpose in life. It was going to take time, but he would get his son back, and he would have his revenge on the Mercer family. It was his chance for a new start…


End file.
